>That Blows…Then Again Maybe Not

I wonder if the plume
is the last of his brain cells
reaching for freedom

I wonder if Dorothy
will whip out the oil
can to loosen the horn

I wonder if he saw
lovers kiss long
and indescently in the square

I wonder if he
just wanted to play taps
and head to mid-town

I wonder if he wished
he had brought his
flugelhorn to play some jazz

I wonder if he couldn’t
wait for a cigarette break
and sit on a bench

I wonder if he
missed the indoor gig
at Macy’s by a hair

I wonder if
by off chance
he really felt
fulfilled to pretend
to blow

if this was his
destiny to stand
perfectly still
in full dress uniform

and be ignored
as an individual
and feel the tin
echos within
everytime someone
walked by laughing
with friends

7 thoughts on “>That Blows…Then Again Maybe Not

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