The Back Catalog

The stoop sales bloom in the springtime sun, all up and down the block. The guy with the crates full of old vinyl records has set up on the steps of a brownstone, and his wares are well attended by passers by.

I have no intention of buying, but still I linger, flipping through the stacks with a practiced air. The act itself is what soothes, flipping from cover to cover, one falling forward as the next is revealed:  ABBA's greatest hits, Traffic, Neil Young, some checkerboard 80's graphic design atrocity, a fuzzy faux-velvet covered Bee Gee's record, Cat Stevens, Cat Stevens, Cat Stevens.