Friday, July 06, 2007

cdxc

The best kind of melancholy.
Not even a teardrop with a trombone in it.

I misread it in your voice. That’s how these things work.
We become new creatures on a page.

I could frame it
and place it on the yellow wall next to the banana
with an overcoat. (After all these years
I just noticed he was wearing a skirt.)

First, though, I would need to print it out (or off).
Which reminds me of our discussion about
the physicality of music. And then onto another moment

Is it physically or emotionally?

That wasn’t misread. It wasn’t even misheard.
In fact, each syllable was precisely clipped
and exactly the same decibel.

After I fell asleep standing up
I finally answered that it was physical.
But who can be too sure?

Certainly not someone with an eye for yesteryear.