It’s that old siren I see only vaguely through the mist. But I hear her. I can’t quite make out exactly what she is saying, but I know what she wants. Come closer. I will give you everything you want, but you must come closer.
I no longer know what she looks like. When I was younger I studied her every detail like all infatuated boys. I wasn’t hooked for what she was, but for what I wanted to do with her. Eventually of course, I grew bored and moved on. She was too expensive and frankly, she stopped being cool. The irony is electric.
All I can remember is that I thought she was so beautiful. Her look. How she felt. Even her smell.. For some reason, I appreciate those things far more now than the things we actually did.
People tell me she is now thousand-times more attractive. Youthful! They say I’m worse than nostalgic; I’m a snob. Worst of all? I’m missing the point. If you feel connected? You are connected. Feel queasy? That’s only because you’re fighting the tide like crazy old Cú Chulainn.
That signal? It’s where we’re all headed. Don’t try to crack off. That’s pointless. It’s not too late, but soon it will be too late.
Come closer. Come closer.