You’re a good disc jockey, you know that?
I let myself long for you with the ear-
phones on, watching Tuscany disappear.
Simon & Garfunkel weren’t half bad,
though the guitarist whom I listened to
was you, pouring all those extravagant
declarations in my ears. You meant
me to, mind-bender, even before you knew
what you could sing me back to. Getting wet
inside, I stood out in the corridor
with a teenaged Italian space cadet
tuned into his own message-on-cassette,
indulging what felt like nostalgia for
all kinds of things that haven’t happened yet.
Marilyn Hacker, Love, Death & the Changing of the Seasons