Before the iPod, was the Walkman.
And before that, music was out loud
heard, wanted or not.
Top 40 played endlessly
catchy or maddening – earworm yet to be invented.
Book end –
in my first week of university
Santana sang, “nobody told me about her.”
Walking from her office,
eyes followed me, from hidden desks –
digging in deeper : shit happens.
Last days of high school,
on commercial radio
Rod Stewart sang about Georgie
happiness at last meeting.
– Book end
We crossed in the supermarket
by then, not in the same workplace.
And I knew –
told by a coincidental third party.
Intuition told her I knew. And hadn’t. It was easy.
We talked of the present
and the future – mine … “what do you think you might do now?”
But not the past,
we might stray ….. into that day.
We laughed, real laughter, not polite response.
I noticed things, never noticed –
she had tiny hands – they waved around,
a young child’s teeth – neon displayed constantly,
small round breasts – they pushed up and out with laughter and animation.
….. 15 – 20 minutes – several exits talked past ….
… then – “ well I guess
great catching up – all the best.”
Rod Stewart told of Georgie finding peace, happiness
and being in love –
congruent thoughts, as the cash register conferred ownership.
Yes, to all of the above. She had. And was.
A decade and a half later I heard,
heard about love up and leaving – abruptly.
Psychiatric hospital? “ Oh …. months! Well over a year.”
If Only is a sequel to Nobody Home, published March 15, 2017.