“forgive me, I was young then”

9 February, 2011


Here I am, moving boxes all around me.  I was just thinking of you the other night, that tape you gave me.  It was so long ago, such different selves, a soft spotlight on a dark stage.

Today your cassette tape literally fell into my lap, that same one you gave me when I was 15, that one I’ve never thrown away, even though I no longer have the tape deck to play it.  I read your liner notes again, the careful type set with exuberance and the world-weary eyes of the 17.  “Forgive me,” you write of one song, “I was young then”.

I trace the sketches with my fingertips, remember the pens you used to draw them, their delicate nibs strait and clean, so unlike my own thick, leaky tips.

I read the inscription, the first thing you ever wrote me and try to remember the first time I read it.  That person, so long ago, blinding spotlight on a dark stage, would she recognized me?

Yes, I think she would.

Did she know, did she plan, to be remembered this way, hand clutching a homemade tape, eager to rush home and play it over and over, analyzing for further insight into your feelings for her?

No, but I think it might have crossed her mind.

You wrote about my timid voice, and it rings as false now as it ever did, but you also urge me to write and write and write.  You past lovers are all alike, in some ways, treating me as muse, admired and put between lines, stored like an old cassette, ready for the occasion to be remembered, harsh light on a black stage.

Where are you now, I wonder?  When will you next pop up, eager to remind me of the me I was, that I still am but still remember.  Would that me that I still remember, would she be pleased with me?  Would she be angry?  What did she want to be, where did she want to be it?  I think she wanted to be older, and somewhere else.  Dim light on fading stage.     I’m not sure I can remember.


One Response to ““forgive me, I was young then””

  1. harlequin Says:

    ah… i’ve been thirsting for good writing, much in the same way i’ve been thirsting for good conversation.
    i re-read this thrice straight away.
    it’s beautiful.

    i’m glad you’re surrounded by boxes, my friend.

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