*

Maybe you breathe a sigh of relief.
But wait, what’s this?

A quill plucks the instrument’s strings. A soundboard
transports sound. You listen close to what I say. Nothing guarantees
I will have the right answer before the evening closes.
But ample time remains before midnight. You glance at me
occasionally to acknowledge I am reading the correct score,
as the pages now are gathered randomly, collected
in their loose-leaf portfolio.

Should we dine, I ask you sometime later? You appear not
to understand me, and you return my question with a glazed
expression, before you nod your head solemnly, gesturing,
yes, now is a fine time to dine. You look off into the distance, ponder
some thought, which, I think, may or not be related to dinner.

I turn on the kitchen light, open the refrigerator door.
The radishes roll out onto the floor…

*
_______
Blog, or dog? Who knows.
But if you see my lost pup, please ping me!
http://journals.aol.com/virginiaz/DreamingofLeonardo