and the violin rhythm rose. to a room full of cheering people. and a loud sound like a little thud. little Miss A's recital.
and i may have cried. a drop of two of sweet silver. the music may have paused. the viola played. like clapping hands. a jeering pale of lovers.
i miss your voice baby. you died and cried. in your purple cage. on the record bar. while your clasp. my clasp. we were headed south.
one foot in and one foot back. cut the tiles and jump the tracks. the avett brothers. and the mysteriousness of your headphones. what a cold cult.
