He felt the expected tug of memory of spy movies about
The KGB and Mi6, of an age where political ambiguity
Ran free
While he counted himself a bit of a connoisseur of music--
He was almost a music major in college, after all--
He still could not break the habit of only thinking of music
In terms of mood and evocation, of emotion emoting and
Feeling
He really should be thinking about music, reasoning with
It, exploring the complexity of patterns, the mathematical
Interactions--the calculus of chords--the trigonometry of
Tonal shape
Yet all he could think of was a spy, leaning against a building
Snow ticking across his face while he waited for night to
Fall
No comments:
Post a Comment