A man walks into a cafe
and writes a piece of music so beautiful
he forgets everything he knows.
Like the son who he hasn’t spoken to in 6 years,
and the bruise around the waitress’ eye,
and how uncomfortable he feels inside of his body.
And there is no cafe,
and there is no man.
Only the music.
A magic song,
when played he can remember things;
the first time he tasted an orange
and the smell of his mother’s perfume
while she held him as a baby,
and he knows things, too,
things he shouldn’t be able to,
like how his son dreams about wolves almost every night,
and the waitress is still in love despite her husband’s fists,
and that his body is like a shell that the crab wears
and there is only
the music, the music, the music.
by Amanda La Valley