The Music Teacher

This is my homage to Rufus Wainwright's song, "The Art Teacher". Although I never had a Turner-loving art teacher, I did date a Jeff Buckley-loving guy in my early twenties who taught me about music and love.

Incidentally, I'm a happy married woman with no regrets.


There I stood in my friend's apartment,
trying to blend into the carpet.
Your gaze rested on me and I met it.
All at once, I felt like a roman candle,
ignited, excited and unfettered.

You were a few years older,
not high-class or pretentious.
A crooked smile dripped words of pained passion
as you spoke of your love for music,
and I orbited the sphere of your existence.

We listened to Jeff Buckley
on my birthday, while you drove your Mustang
and the wind whipped our hair
into a fine frenzy.
My hair was longer then.

You asked me what my favorite song was,
and I longed to say that it was you.
You were unforgettable,
my unchained melody,
My wish fulfilled, my dream come true.

I knew you were untouchable,
but I painted you wonderful.
I was just a girl when
you broke my heart into pieces
and left me for Tom Waits and Edith Piaf.

All this having been said,
I fell in love again.
My son has my husband's blue eyes
and listens to my extensive music collection.
This woman's favorite song is him.