predict the skips

I have decided that I like compact discs. I like microwaving them, I like reflecting rainbow light onto walls, I enjoy the insert and push and slide to get things started, and I like the skips.

It seems that every one I've ever loved has made me a mix cd, and I for them. Usually Sundays, when I've woken up at 11 and am alone-- I'll throw in a c.d. I'll do my toes, drink a beer, and soak in some sort of masochism. I'll play a "choose your own adventure" in my head, as I think about what might have been, what kind of person I would be, if I would have gotten fake nails, or had a baby.

I know the discs so well, that I know where they skip. I prepare myself to get up and press the "next" button. Each new "d-d-d-d-d-d-d" comes as a surprise, and a sign to me. As I realise that I will never hear that song again, fully, next to the one that preceded it and before the one that follows, I feel a mixture of relief and regret.

I have never thrown out the mixes, but there are some that are no longer playable.