There Is No True Lossless Format

Some songs are candy right away. From that first lick through the radio's hiss. I'm already biting down hard. Tonguing the fructose shards deftly over my palette. Some people are like that too. From the second I find myself breathing the same air as them I'm ready to swallow. Put those broken pieces in my mouth and extract every hint of sugar from edges too sharp.

But every once in a while I'll crawl back inside the bin. Rummaging through the discs I've played once. Maybe less. The songs that didn't strike me at first listen. Put away. Forgotten.

Maybe it wasn't the right time for me to hear. Or perhaps they were not ready for me yet. Always searching for an urgency that isn't necessarily the key to what I want. In the first few seconds of contact I assume I know enough. And I do. Know them.

But we can't have known each other.

So sometimes I go back. Plundering through the rejects I've amassed. Little plastic squares waiting patiently to forge our bond.

And every time I do, I'm surprised by how well they know who I am. How long I've wasted not listening to their song.

Some people are like that. If you wait long enough.