You.

you are sitting at the tip of that coffee table we love to fool people with. you are frantically scribbling (but of course there is method to it), pencil only, as you confer between piano/conductor and guitar scores. occasionally, you ask me a question, what is the cue, is this band or sound effect. your silence is punctuated by the odd arm flail, as you conduct the imaginary band. sometimes the one hand, sometimes both, sometimes the entire upper body makes an appearance. it all makes me swoon. you show me things that make you laugh, and they make me laugh too. you gently whisper bar counts into the air, accompanied by a lyric or two, a nod of the head, and a mad dash for the pencil. you are so aware, so tuned in, so intelligent. but you are right, you cannot draw. not even a little bit. nevertheless, i know you will give me everything i want. one day.


chu-gaga-chu-gaga-CLICK and it's over.