Old lusts

Old lusts

And hurts

Come running

Back to the surface

With the sound

Of a voice

In an old song

From a different

Time

In my life-

Neither good

Nor bad.

An emotional

Scrapbook

Of music,

With yellowed

And tattered

Edges,

And faded images,

But the memories

Still vivid

With all the same colors,

Smells,

Feelings,

Longings,

And confusion.

I can still

See her

Eyes

And hear her

Voice,

Telling me

As awkwardly as she could

That “it’s over”-

The mole above her lip

Danced

As her lips moved

And my ears

Filled

With the white noise

Of rushing blood

And a broken heart.

So many years later,

And multiple marriages,

The memories of those teenage years and teenage music

Are renewed,

Even if only

Until the end of the song.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

January 14, 2012