Late Night Wonders

I am a piano song yet written, a sweet string of soft notes that might flow like poetry from an instrument, into people’s hearts and ears, penetrating their minds and imaginations as gently and strong as the stars shine bright in the night sky over Los Angeles, Arizona, Chicago and Washington, D.C., and other corners of this world.

I am a curious child, held earthbound but always wondering about the stars and where their path might lead me. Let the soil sink beneath my feet, the sand fit into the spaces between my toes, but my eyes will always end up rising to the star-scattered sky. I want to know why things are they way they are: why the orange rind has dimples just so; how sips of honeysuckle from my childhood taste like sugar water in my mouth; how skin can be soft like velvet.

Music monopolizes my mind and makes me freeze my daily tasks. Unpacking my suitcase, I’ll replay a song over and over; robotic; lay down to think about it, feel it, dream it, work my way through it. I wish I could spew music out my mouth the way I pour words onto this page, as easily as if they were dripping from finger, as though I’ve been cut and words flow from my veins, liquid-like, malleable, soft and warm.

I was told once that a person should spend at least a few years in a city in a lifetime. Now, here I am—Los Angeles has taken me in its hand with a tight grip, leading me along on my next adventure. Life is waiting.