I’m in the last supermarket checkout lane
And the kid in front of me starts whining for gum
The crescendo is German opera, but
The mother’s response is Credence Clearwater Revival
The older stuff
He’s in front of me at the concert waiting for his order
Of chicken wings and an IPA from Oregon
I smile as I reach over his chest to grab some napkins
When the opening band starts and the singer is a girl
She raps like she’s angry and I tell him that
Oh, he says, what time is it? Yeah, that’s Kasey
She keeps writing songs about me
You and I are on the lawn outside the art museum
And a quartet starts playing jazz like they prefer classical
Except for the violinist who calls his instrument a fiddle.
The cellist is channeling his punk band and hitting it hard
And the guy on the viola uses this set
To finish his dissertation on Beethoven
We’re in the back of the school auditorium
Having arrived late but just in time for our kid
To take the stage with his class and lift a mallet
In each hand, and strike, and skim, and skedaddle
Songs that sound familiar but lighter somehow
I feel a thrum that pounds like life
We move with it, surrounded by sound
WILDsound Writing Festival 