Everything Has Its Music
Everything has its music.
Everything is singing.
Francophone pop
from a passing car; shrill tyres
at a stop sign;
people pausing
on your café's wooden ramp.
The steady, measured drums
of car doors shutting.
The pulse of palpable silence
framing the tunes of tools.
I harmonize with the hum
of your café cooler;
match notes to its fluent tones.
Your Italian espresso machine
wears her name, Aurelia II,
like a pewter tiara;
her broad brow glows
as she washes away
our doubts and wants.
Each evening I pick up a broom
& sweep away my worries.
When you ask "Am I in your way?"
I say "It's your café".
You reply "Is it?"
We eavesdrop
on the characters outside
repeating their complaints;
this powerful dream.
Deep beats of weighty or airy music:
the tempo of our talk, the tick of time's
two hands reminding us of death,
beneath the lights.
When I said we'd yet to christen
your café's dancefloor –
the hardwood floor before your counter –
you said "The dancefloor is everywhere".
Outside, a crow's raucous laugh.
As my teacher's teacher said,
when asked to perform a miracle:
"Miracle? The tiniest bird that flies
is a total miracle!"
Let's listen with both our ears.
One sound forms the ground
of this whole crowded chorus;
one Om, picked up by intuition.
One sunset, you let me hold your butterfly hand.
A party of three passed by
& peeked inside
& one exclaimed:
"God, there's so much light
in there! Holy shit!"
His astonished tenor tone
sounded the horn
of one more perfect moment.
David Leo Sirois is a Canadian-American poet. He has lived and performed in Paris and now lives in Canada, where he hosts the global open mic Spoken World Online. His poetry has appeared in journals such as The Poetry Village, The Sunday Tribune Online, THE BASTILLE, and Terre à Cièl. He is currently submitting two manuscripts for publication, & writing two more.
Comments