Tossing and turning isn’t so good unless you’re a pancake or a sunflower.
And even church is subject to a schedule. So with that
a change of plans was in order, because I wasn’t about to let time get away with another easy cantrip.
Foggy ears and ringing eyes, I would see twice as well, hear sounds amusing and unsung.
It took a moment or seventeen, but I first caught her tune on the whir of the washing machine.
Ah-rhum-rhum-rhum Ah-rhum-ahrum-ahrum Ah-rhum-rhum-rhum.
Vibrations danced on my bones, turning them a way I hadn’t thought of in a while but should have.
the highlights, but had forgotten the whole story, whittled it down to something gauzy and fair, and just a little smug.
A break in the motion brought my heart up fast: Lhul–Roo–Klunk.
A tremor, a tremble, a trombone — that’s where I felt her next: in the mustache
of the man playing brass crowns, and Little Walter’s sensational cup. Play, Walter, play
and take me on a journey of blues and jazz, and all that punchy pizazz. I could never be as cool as you, but my toes don’t know that, so we won’t tell ’em.
I smiled at them; them like children who haven’t any idea their clothes are on inside out.
The telephone rang: R-rwaaring-R-rwaaring-R-rawaaring.
. . . . . and I really was surprised to find her there. She sang for a little while
until she finally tired of being ignored. Then she talked to that Voice, but I stopped listening after that because she had already hung up.
I couldn’t blame her.
Swish, swish, swish–plink! He stood over that club, determined as beets
to make air soar and grass stick. Air was in some mood today and rerouted his plans; to Tibet, I think.
He smiled about it.
And of all the sounds I heard, all of Sunday’s finest playing in my ear,
it was your smile, sweet dear, majestic man, that I longed most to hear.