The Trumpet and Sax

Water of what we are, the bodies, in which we swim in.
Keeps us in the dry air- dry hope- where we open our eyes,
Get out of bed, get in our car, slave all day, go home, repeat.
Repeat repeat repeat re-re
Vinyl, we lay in between the ridges.
As if God moves the needle back to One
Again, again.
The orchestra starts up, beautiful music with melodies pouring out
Down the table legs.
We can hear the crackle of the vinyl every now
And then the rain falls.
White noise on the window's face.
Here we go, shhh
The show is starting.
Silence, the silence after the storm, you hear it then, too
Your frontal lobe is cool, with low rising tingles,
the curtain lifts to reveal the conductor.
Wide eyes held breath
And then- Movement
Swift breath in and blow
Air carried through metal pipes and out into the world
for public consumption.
Drawn up down around,
We all have that fiddler though, coming in to take over our
rep rep repetitions.
Faster rhythm, faster, please.
Lie down, near the bottom of the page.
And then the clock rang ten oh ate
time to come to an end, slow down needle, be able to breathe in a sigh of
it's over.
But then the needle is drawn back to One.
And the water starts to rise, our eyes focus on the curtains, breaths are drawn.
Here we go.