4/4 time for old times sake
Dinted, battle scarred, golden, especially lonely,
stashed away in a dark case without comfort.
No warm breath to sharpen your metal corridors,
your pink corroded scratches, a worn bell, spit corrupting
from the inside. You smell worse than an old book today
and I am reluctant to moisten my lips
and tongue that Rudy Much 19C cushioned rimmed mouthpiece
yet I long to kiss the brain of this earthy instrument
with a primal cry to reconnect with song of brass,
a three cylinder engine of tarnished silver
you have seen bars and parties, been snapped with photo lens
splashed with beer and sweat; I have cried tears
when you have refused to do what I want you to do
you have produced strange mouth bumps and calluses
my fingerprints are tarnished into your metal, exotic liquids
and smoke blown through your pipes. Silence now.
