April 5, 2014
my friend and I
set up downtown
under the dark green awning
of an abandoned museum

the sun is shy
it hides behind the trees and clouds
and people and rooves
until she unzips her viola case

the golden mass peeks out
from beyond the awning
and listens to our duo
"Bass?" it asks me

I shake my head--"No, its a cello."
the birds pass their pitches
to us and we pass our notes
to the guitarist opposite us

he sits on the curb
wailing about revenge and sorrow
his voice is sharp and his eyes are flat
black ovals beneath the sun

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