.64 strum

currently listening to

killing me softly,

the fugees

i've decided that any musical instrument

that needs to be 'turned on'

is fundamentally flawed.

it's a contradiction in terms.

i am not that contradiction in terms.

hollow,

ready.

strings stretched, body tight

rosewood, mahogany,

dust, dust.

curvatures, hands-shaped

pilfering, real

grain varnished delicate smooth

with a hint of tangerine

and the inside waiting for that breath of wind

like a kite,

a thousand sails,

a smoldering pile of dry moss.

ignite.

strum.

sail.

silent potential energy

release me, baby.

play me, baby.