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One day this Hot Chocolate record, too,
will be destroyed.
When the sun burns the earth, or the milky way
implodes, so will this piece here
of 1980s vinyl, these classic singles,
even disco itself be dissolved in the fires of galaxies:
floating through space a trillion miles
from the bedroom that first played it,
a single black disc hitting a hot patch of stellar dust
and evaporating into atoms
in a second –
briefly played by a shard of comet
riding its grooves.