Fictive Music

No asides necessary,no eye rolling clichés—like tonight, as you headedupstairs to bed, our painedcall and response duetstill shrill, you playon the piano a minor that hangsso light, so sadly on the airI simply have to listen.

Now I can’t resist fightingmy own bent to leave thingsas they lie but true, once true,to the harmonizer you desire.Maybe I’ll play that minorinto a major, and, yes,maybe add a trill or two,before I climb the stairs.