Operator the lines are down, are down
And I’m traitor, a traitor to a beautiful cause
God made me to her own design
Bad planning, too many flaws
How long will it take to get used to me?
How long will it take to get used to me?
Don’t wait that long, won’t wait that long
Don’t wait that long, don’t wait that long…
The end of my first year at Brandeis. Back in Amsterdam for the summer. The girl I was dating thought I was a better man than I would ever be. I knew it. She would come to know it, years later, but I couldn’t show her that then. I tried. I think I tried. Maybe we were just pretending though, both of us.
In the days leading up to that summer, in the messy fumblings of backseats, in grass cool and wet with dew, we thought we could find a way into each other, into the hearts that would carry us far into the future, together. We would only have that one summer. The spring was already going. We held onto it as we held onto each other, hoping it would last, even though we somehow knew it couldn’t. The magic of a spring night is fleeting at best, never to be captured for very long.
Oh yes I love you, but today I could hate you, I could hurt you
Cause were joined at the heart
Beats faster, hits harder than a boxer whenever we are apart
Body language is an S.O.S. I don’t understand how our fight starts,
Not enough to believe in love, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know where we’ve gone wrong
How long will it take to get used to me?
How long will it take to get used to me?
Don’t wait that long, won’t wait that long
No we won’t wait that long, don’t wait that long…
In the very earliest hours of dawn, I’d drop her off at her house. There was already light in the sky. A foggy haze, damp clover, the startled eyes of a deer, and me pulled off on the side of the back road, sitting behind the steering wheel listening to this song and wanting to cry for everything we did not know. The beauty of the morning made me ache. Have you ever been so happy, so bursting with joy, that it veers wildly off into sadness, skidding recklessly into a messy patch of tears, your body convulsing with passion and pain it hadn’t known needed emptying?
But the sun was coming up, the fog was burning off, the birds were starting to sing. The world was awakening like it always did, and one young man running off helplessly into a field wouldn’t ruffle feathers that simply flew higher. I pull the car back onto the road. The corn is just beginning its fountain-like ascent. Rows and rows of it, neatly parallel on mounds of dirt, run beside the car, waving their green strands in my wake. I am driving directly into the sun ~ into the summer ~ and not bothering to slow down.
