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By Richard E. Moore

When I was a teenager, there was this girl - a friend of mine - that I had an enormous crush on. Of course, I never really did anything about it that wasn't as clumsy as little Dumbo's first circus act. Anyway, I used to take long walks at night to this park, where I would sit and listen to Pink Floyd and PJ Harvey and REM and the Replacements (yeah, I'm that cool), and my path always took me past her house. Of course my smitten heart would throb. One night I went to an open mic with her and read a short story that basically spilled my heart to her in a roundabout prose. She let me walk her home, and it was (to me) quite a romantic night - the moon was brilliant. I showed her what a cool scary face I could make with the shadows. You can imagine how well that went.

i think i lost myself at 16 years old
walking past your house
was hoping maybe you'd see me
maybe you'd come out
i knew you were too high
you were too high i hoped you'd come down
but I hoped you wouldn't see me
as i stare back and speak your name
walking past your house

i think i lost myself at 16 years old
walking past your house
somehow i gave you myself
i gave you my self walking past your house
we only had that one night
and a midnight walk home
you said that i looked scary in the moonlight
scary in the moon
i made an ass of myself
right after i told you how i felt in poetry
in the public house

i'm sorry i was 16 years old
16 years old, walking past your house