sing me on street corners under glowing lampposts, harmonizing vocals, black, white, race is no matter, sweet sound knows no color. sing me in philly, in brooklyn, in baltimore, i am your love, your longing, your heartbreak and your joy. a cappella, alive on 45’s and chevy stereos, cruising, because there’s a moon out tonight and life could be a dream. never-ending youth, ephemeral song. doo wop has died, but the music lives on.
Daniel W. Polk 