They are vignettes of sorts
Sometimes blurry and syncopated
But somehow vivid
Like Vetheuil in the fog
I sense it
I feel it
But damn I want to see it
Like a ricochet
Its’ reveal is in part yet distant
An echo in refrain
Hinting at glory days
Muffled
Familiar
But damn I want to hear it
I don't care for feelings
Too untrustworthy
Derivative and deceitful
Much ado about nothing I say
Show me
Tell me
Damn it just press play