Am I Special Poem by Rebecca Wolff

I can play songs in my head
Yes I can perfectly replicate

(the) full-on
orchestral
every note
(when the lights / do down / in the city)
yet I cannot

compose, for example

and though when I was young I believed

that the fullness meant
I could recreate the sounds
I heard in my head with my mouth

I learned through painful iteration
painfully unsatisfactory

shameful the rendition

so partial
almost unrelated
the qualities are: note tone scale register vocality musicality
incapacity
painfully shy of representation
is there anyone?

who is a record player