To the reader

Some thoughts, I cannot keep.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Christmas Eve or Jazz

the notes trip over themselves
busy shoppers in a narrow hallway of a measure
bee doo doo doo da bop pop punches
a woman and straight to the front of the line
we go.
Endless movement of shuffling and murmuring
dominates the line
the line with no end, the swift and uncertain
chasing of happiness,
the mindful chaos of improvisational
journeying, the end goal
a perfect piece that satisfies,
the reward is a smile.

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