for C.
Caught up in your eyes’ glow, your honest words,
and my own yakking away, I just can’t
recall: Was music playing while we heard
each other sing our histories, our chants
of fear, hope and care? Did melody fill
the relaxed, cool air flowing through Loca
Luna? Our close, deep conversation thrilled
me, each rhythm its own life. Our local
tour of old homes creaked open memory,
brought faces to doors I never knew stayed
there. Did you tune the radio as we
drove down those streets? What composition played
with such deep passion, I still feel near it,
much like my chest’s heartbeat. Did you hear it?
Roger Armbrust
June 27, 2007
