I entered the basement with a sigh and tried my best to 
mute the gladness in my eyes. It was a deep long 
breath, one that i never would replace.
Though we'd just met I held a memory of her face so 
fresh and clear, just like a photo in a frame of a girl 
taken before I ever knew her name. It was a mental 
snapshot of her high above me on a stage. Back then 
she'd been like a J.D. Salinger novel; my eyes had 
never left the page.
Five or six chairs, she went and set them in a row. I 
sat down and oh, she didn't even know what I was 
thinking. Soon her voice rang out. For an hour or two 
or three all eight of us joined in the song until our 
breath grew short and the evening had grown long.
At the end of the night I walked out past a table full 
of bowls of popcorn. I climbed the stairs, kicking 
aside a thumbtack and then I made my way back home on 
the wings of a downy twilight. Two miles I walked 
haunted by words that we'd recite in another seven day 
span, when again I'd see her pale hands mime a 
pirouette on the keys of her synthesizer.
A few weeks later I was following her home on my bike, 
the one with the bum rear brake and the gears that had 
gone on strike. So as one can imagine, I was straining 
on the hills, though I tried hard not to let her know. 
I was noticeably out of breath, though, so I suppose it 
had to show. ('Silly, anxious me,' I think now.)
On the way to her house we crossed NE Broadway and 
cruised the sidewalk of Martin Luther King, Jr. 
Boulevard, which you're really not supposed to do and 
yet we did it anyway. She asked if that was illegal, 
and it could be for all i knew, but i vowed to myself 
that I would not reveal her. I wouldn't let them steal 
her when they'd arrive to arrest me for the crime of 
the crush I was cementing on her.
As far as I was concerned the police could lock me 
away. I just hoped they'd still say I could play my 
guitar in the cell, where i'd construct a bridge part 
for the song that i would craft to win her love.
And it would go, 'I wish I could squeeze you just like 
a vanilla sandwich creme, pressing my fingers to your 
middle. You know it would be a dream watching your 
sweetness pour out. Oh girl, I surely would be redeemed 
for all the time I've wasted querying my bedroom walls 
for the secrets of your foreign heart all during my 
lonely trip upstream.'
Last night in her car I pulled a cassette out of its 
case; I won't deny the subtle glow that took her face. 
When she recognized those chords to a song that was her 
own, I was scared we'd crash, but luckily she got me 
home without a scratch. Then the song came to its end, 
a recording of my voice with her words, and the vehicle 
was silent once again.
I rolled down the window since the door had to be 
opened from the outside. I popped out the tape and 
quickly stammered a goodbye. I didn't want her to drive 
away, but I couldn't tell her so, so I stepped aside 
and closed the door behind me. I watched the rain then 
blindly dance from the road as the wheels began 
turning.
A knot in my throat, cramped by the words that were 
burning, it released to an audience of myself and the 
lampost, making light of my unrequite, alone on the 
front porch thinking, 'I thought I'd never feel this 
way again.'
Oh, I wish I could squeeze her like a vanilla sandwich 
creme, pressing my fingers to her middle. I know it 
would be a dream watching her sweetness pour out. I 
know I surely would be redeemed for all the time i 
spent there staring at her bedroom walls so enraptured 
by her foreign art, knowing my hopes were not obscene.
And she could take that or leave it, but i'm for taking 
it all the way. I'm serious, you wouldn't believe the 
sides I took when we were alone today: I went from 
assuming her glances to be no more than cursory to 
thoughts that the only reason she doesn't read my mind 
aloud is 'cause she's just not brave enough, because 
she's afraid just like me. But of course, as always, i 
could be mistaken.