OLD TO BEGIN

in the bookstore, sandwiched between origins and wolfman, i found the mix cd you left for me;

it's a secret, though, i know, it says so on the notebook paper it came wrapped in.

but since you're barely over two decades old and i'm pushing nearly fifty million twenty two thousand and sixty seven

i don't think it's possible for you and me to be able to look at that mulberry tree over there in that field and see it the same way;

for you its open branches and fullness and its fuzzy leaves doesn't beg for your touch, it doesn't seem like the most perfect and beautiful being.

since i've heard the first bird squeak the first melody and song,

since i've attended a young beethoven's first concerto in cologne,

since i have pondered life next to ancient rivers smoking a pipe, listening to its clever rhymes and its pleasant tones millions of times,

i don't think paul westberberg's voice can sound quite the same to you as it does to me.

don't you see,

for me,

this cd won't mean quite the same thing