They are old friends now, these songs,
these raps. I can sing along and snap
out the lyrics—and though there is joy
in fluency, I catch myself wishing
I could hear them all newly. I remember
the kick in the odd snooty king, the ache
in the song for a son who died young, the thrill
as Hamilton helps others rise, the chill
when Hamilton duels and dies.
Not that I don’t still cry every time—
I do—but it’s not the same as when it
was new. And it makes me wonder
how many more firsts there are
awaiting discovery. So much left
to find and uncover, every moment
blushing with potential, every
interaction the chance to unearth
more reasons, more ways to fall in love—
fall in love, perhaps with something new
in the same job, the same walk,
the same dish, the same song.
As a strange PS to this poem:
then tonight I stumbled on Joey who has is own You Tube channel, Joey Reacts, devoted to filming his reactions to music video he is seeing for the first time. What a strange concept! But sure enough, I watched him watch Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody and part of me was so jealous, but part of me just delighted in watching someone experience it, the rapture, his speechlessness.