Here are the rooms of the ones
that moved you.
Across the hall,
The Gallery of the Catchy
But Not Crucial.
The guards’ coats,
sprinkled with tiny guitars.
Here a screen shows,
for each of us,
where we were, what we were doing,
the first time we heard
particular numbers.
A sign reads
>>KEY IN TITLE>>
And the conversation–
that low melody–
surprising how sorrowful
it often is:
When she left me
it was so bad
I couldn’t stand
to even listento the radio
The Hendrix Room
is silent.
Wood benches,
where we sit wondering.
This article appears in The Music Issue.
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