The Music Above

The music playing above me: a white, satin bra.
I am utterly obsessed with fondling the notes.
It tickles my earlobes as I cock my head back in laughter.

I can taste its sweet skin in the back of my throat.

Laughter echoes within my head.

I am reminded of the long, wooden pier, 

jetting off into the horizon, 

burned onto my retinas.

The ocean, and its misty music, clouds my nostrils with its stench, 

making it difficult to breathe.

I can see clearly the muddy notes 

floating in the space above me.
Stevie Wonder stares at me; 

speaking his Harlem truth.
I am blind, as I always have been.
Staring at the seashells washed up on shore, I think back:
My memory is a schmuck who won't shut up!

That is why I continue listening.
I'm fixin' to leave, but
the talented musician of ecstasy continues to seduce me,
until I faint from too much sleep.
I melted into this seat, and stuck to its soft leather.
Adrian had the power to listen to my words, but 

I 

failed

him.

I will stop listening soon, and go 

home to the emptiness,
drinking dry water until I am thirsty.
I will eat when I am full, and starve my empty stomach.
Ich habe eine grosse Hunger fuer Musik.
This soft chair tells me that the song is over for today,
but tomorrow 

echoes 

in 

my 

mind.