After Fred Lerdahl’s String Quartets – No.1

To be certain. Relax. Think about that time in Oslo. She was to meet you. Yes. That was a time. No. She never came. What’s the use? Not now. Follow the yellow butterfly. Take a sip from the bottle. Write your name in the snow. Forget to forget. Mother’s milk. Some other time. Remember Copenhagen? Saturday night. No stars. Gobbledygook. Cornpone. Or was it porn? The message is clear. Random notations. After all. That’s right. Summertime. Too. Don’t squander the moment. Sizzle & squeak. Speak to the man in the moon. Rattle be damned. Centipede. Some other time. Say it ain’t so. Remember Chicago. 1957. Charley McCarthy. The Rubicon. Notes in the book directed you to swim to the watermelon. Must have been a dream. Summer is sinister suspense. Never did like her. Always made me nervous. With those scissors. Suck-it-up. On North Avenue. Remember? She’s on your handlebars. That sweet ass. What was her name? Maria? No. Clair Ann? No. MaryAnn. That’s it. MaryAnn. Right you are. Take a break. Start again tomorrow . . .