fade back

i dig out my
old Elton john albums.
mad men
across the water.
goodbye yellow brick road,
nearly all of them
still in tact,
still in their covers,
bent and stained,
corners torn.
i know all the words
of all the songs.
i know where the scratches
lie in the vinyl,
when to pick up the needle.
i know the age
i was when i bought the record,
where i lived,
who i was in love with,
or not.
when i spin
the music now on the ancient
turn table, i close my eyes,
i listen to that comforting static.
i'm that young again,
wishing to go back
and start over, knowing
what i know now
about everything.
i want to set the needle
onto the first track,
to the beginning and hear
it all for the first
time.