Staring absently, the waitress
Demurred to evoke words
In reply to what he thought jocose
Signifying his accidental dissonance in most anything not
Music
At the piano
A good part of the day
Notes singing out a pentatonic sequence
Which were the scales’ iteration of their name
In every key
“It’s fun!” he exclaimed
While I sat on the couch that afternoon visit
Not even a song to me or most anybody
It’s why he’s so good
I mean good
Why his accidental dissonance, maybe, in most anything not
Music
He likes to check out music stores
Why wouldn’t he?
“Listen to this lick; it modulates,” he exclaimed,
After he caught my attention
Playing the baby-grand piano upon asking my permission
In the store I worked at back then
The day we met, that time
When two roads diverged before me
And I took a different road
Than the one we were both traveling by back then
The crowd wasn’t really listening
At the Grand Hotel’s Cupola Bar on Mackinac Island
Chit-chat, chit, chatter, chitter-chatter
Where we renewed our old friendship
It looked to me like the thrill is gone
Nor, I suppose, on the cruise ships how he makes his living now
Everybody’s got to make a buck
David Fekete 