& didn’t just smash them or through them out
because they were all Tori,
Air, Nina, Billie,
Van, Pink Floyd;
Stills Young & Nash;
instead of crazed heavy metal drug fiend anthems.
And I wish you didn’t trade them to someone
or pawn them at `Cash Converters`
so you could get your next hit
of crystal meth or six pack of VB
Maybe you needed the money
for an operation for your child
in which case,
I hope she’s/he’s doing better
& wish her a speedy recovery
& prosperous life hereafter.
But I suspect that you are just a teenage punk
who saw an opportunity and took them
even though it is obviously not your kind of music
and cost me over $500 that was not reimbursable by either
the home nor the insurance polices that I don’t actually have.
I like to think of you crashed out in a blue beanbag
in your messy room,
upstairs in your parent’s house with my CD’s
plugging in your headphones.
I like to think you heard
songs you’d never even dreamt of before,
songs that you liked,
that inspired you somehow and made you feel
connected to me in a mysterious but important way.
And I hope that the cheesy Harry Connick ballads
and early Edith Piaff
made you think of the girl you loved once
in year eight.
The one with the long brown
ponytails and braces & skinny legs;
& how she kissed you once
behind the shelter shed
before end of term.
I hope you keep my CD’s in a special place
& listen to them whenever you’re feeling
sad or lonely
or like no one understands you
or when times are so hard that you feel only a thin,
fraying thread holding you to sanity and light.
I’m on the other end of that thread,
my naughty little thief,
my song catcher
reaching my hand out
this next song
reminds me of you.