Set ‘Em Up Joe Opus 3 in C Major

2 02 2010

I was in the bar
and I dreamed a symphony
it sounded pretty good around closing time

I was sitting like a conductor at the podium
and the orchestra was arrayed like glimmering bottles
the liqueurs to the right and the clear spirits to the left
rows of reedy wines and and sherries
the bass tones of the bourbon and the vodka transparent
as a clarinet, the B&B bassoon and oboe brandy
in sections ready and tuned and colored.

my metrics were immaculate as
liquor that night, the night in question
the arrangements perfect and the
orchestration laid like a quilt intact
brave in its movements and resonant
every ambitious instrument in its place
accelerando, then retardando, the clock
of perfect averages led by one baton.

Then she walked in.
Her dress was tight as a tympani tequila
Her neckline was solo that I could see the tops of her whole notes.
the concert master played A on his tiny violin
and I asked her what she wanted to drink
and in what tempo?

I tapped my baton on the bar
and we began to play the chart
what do you do?
and what do you drive?
and what do you want?
who do you love? And suddenly
It was clear as gin or peppermint schnapps
or a French horn in the distance
muffled and thick as Benedictine.

She wrote her number
on the back of my score,
adagio in Irish coffee.

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