Wow and Flutter

With the uneven speed of an old reel-to-reel,
its drive motors like near wore out, her
fingertips waver over shiny acetate skin
recording the boost and hollow of his ribs,
the long tight tendons in his neck, the skid
of belly and of thigh. For years afterwards
she'll keep it all, low fidelity be damned,
take the memory out and play it sometimes
in the dim afternoons of winter when friends
are playing bridge and gossiping about
other, older times. It won't be really love
but she won't mind, she'll have had all that
as well, but this will be the day replayed
when she remembers sweat and moans
and constant hiss. Ain't no digital experience,
this, she jokes, as he pulls her body over his.