Fuck if I know why I was talking to the bank
at nine at night,
but she asked me to call them.
I performed poorly on the call, pissed her off somehow,
and then she said something sharp to me.
I can’t remember what she said
but I remember
afterward
the throbbing heat
in my ears and under both cheekbones.
My guitar tuner told me I hadn’t tuned my instrument
in thirty one days. What kind of goddam machine scolds you
for lack of practice? Such a modern world.
I sat on my bed and played really bad 12 bar blues in E
for fifteen minutes. It went on until my fingertips started to go numb.
It sounded worse and felt better the longer I played.
Ain’t a convenient way to end this coming to mind,
so I guess I’ll cap it off by mentioning
that it was cold and rainy outside today,
and if you’re gonna narrow your eyes at me
you better have a knife in hand or a guitar for me to play.
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