apropos of nothing,
the short-haired girl who kissed me
one summer music camp
and called and called
from her boarding-school pay-phone
and wanted to ‘go out’.
I let her down
as gently as an adolescent can
– aware, even then, that saying no
is not OK –
and only found, months later,
in the rosin box of my violin case,
a note, a declaration of love
from a girl who didn’t realise
I never practised the damn thing.
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