Search

Shop  |  Submit  |  Contest

Search
Zone 3 Literary Journal Fall 2012, Volume 27, Issue 2
Volume 27, Issue 2
Fall 2012

Fallout

Party at the beach!
But J refuses to go
because he can’t swim.
11 years old. All day
I watch his cuteness
break open and fall away.
He finds Etta James
on YouTube and says,
“When I’m sad, only sad
songs make me better.”
Already a needle
in his heart knows
how to find the chords
for all he’s missing: 
direct sunlight, easy listening.
Already the wax
cylinder’s spinning
its old technology of longing,
and I recognize the boys I knew
in the 80s and 90s,
who dragged me to Fallout Records
so they could “look for something.”
What? It has no name, this sadness
that feels like happiness.

About Angela Sorby

Zone 3 Literary Journal Fall 2012, Volume 27, Issue 2
Zone 3 Press, the literary magazine of Austin Peay State University
Volume 27, Issue 2
Fall 2012

Fallout

Party at the beach!
But J refuses to go
because he can’t swim.
11 years old. All day
I watch his cuteness
break open and fall away.
He finds Etta James
on YouTube and says,
“When I’m sad, only sad
songs make me better.”
Already a needle
in his heart knows
how to find the chords
for all he’s missing: 
direct sunlight, easy listening.
Already the wax
cylinder’s spinning
its old technology of longing,
and I recognize the boys I knew
in the 80s and 90s,
who dragged me to Fallout Records
so they could “look for something.”
What? It has no name, this sadness
that feels like happiness.

Volume 27, Issue 2
Fall 2012

Fallout

Party at the beach!
But J refuses to go
because he can’t swim.
11 years old. All day
I watch his cuteness
break open and fall away.
He finds Etta James
on YouTube and says,
“When I’m sad, only sad
songs make me better.”
Already a needle
in his heart knows
how to find the chords
for all he’s missing: 
direct sunlight, easy listening.
Already the wax
cylinder’s spinning
its old technology of longing,
and I recognize the boys I knew
in the 80s and 90s,
who dragged me to Fallout Records
so they could “look for something.”
What? It has no name, this sadness
that feels like happiness.

About Angela Sorby