-Just Outside for a Breath of Fresh Air-

Our memories take out their kazoos. A buzz, maybe it went humm humm. But the tune is in there, this tin membranophone. I lean back and let the chipped paint railing bend under my hands. And someone can’t make it go, puffing their cheeks. I tell them it uses your voice; a synapse connects, they relax and go timbral. We were figuring if we poured enough foam down our throats, something would burble up. Make a claxon. And be free. But the string section has lapsed. Horsehair bows tangled with splinter and misdirection. There is half a violin vibrating no more. And just edging the proscenium there’s a fuzzy…it could have been clarinet, but it shouldn’t bend that way when headlights flash past and a red metal squeaks around. I am now thinking it’s just a ketchup...