Waiting to Become Godot

There's an upright bass standing in the corner of my mind. It leans with casual grace, balancing a black beret on the uppermost peg. I'm 15 again and I can feel my hands falter in dorian.

And then the keys melt away and the bass turns to humming and all our together comes apart and I decide to Take Five.

He used to shrug and say that no one comes to hear the bassist take his solo. It's different now. It's different when a bike gets run down on 2nd avenue and you're left with brass and clashing and no foundation.

Meanwhile, here I am, in all my 'generation me' free will and glory, indulging in the luxury of my own existence. I sit and I see and I feel. I record or I evaluate. But now I'll take my cues from you - cues to touch and affect.

Because a string is not music until someone makes it ring.