Saturday, June 25, 2011

Symphony No. 7

The clouds formed
with the first movement,
darkened with the second,
and advanced in a line
with the third
and forth.

They followed
as I drove home,
as I opened the door,
as I slipped under the covers.

They hovered
as I closed my eyes,
as I played the notes again in my mind,
as I came to these questions:

Which is more of a man:
the one looking down from the top
or the one looking up from the bottom?

Who is this woman
in the music?

Who is the impostor:
the one standing next to her
or the one next to whom she stands?

With these,
I heard the first few drops
and then the rain came in waves
as everything that had accumulated
emptied itself into the streets.

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