intermezzo

mood: incalculable & counting on fingers
music: war, emmy the great

photos by mrs. french

the memory: waiting for the last bell, with my spine pressed against the wooden panels of a piano & the sensation of notes on bones, the tenacity, the very substance of this sound. i sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the strings & i was so conscious of your fingers on the keys. i think it was brahms (you really ought to have played brahms). everything has fallen away now but the hush of a forgotten hallway, leading me to all the vantages of time.

salt-stains on my teeth & these inadequacies that bump and clatter like old tin-cans on the sidewalk. i found the most incredible field of ice beside the waterfront and i sat there alone awhile, watching the water, the reflections & the light.