He says Not
the melody of a tune
but the chords beneath it
the under-half of my heartbeat.
Two saxophones fight
he says
like dogs on a dirt road.
Two saxophones fight
like Magic and Bird on a parquet dance floor.
How different sounds
unexpected notes
melt in a broad delta
he says.
Rivers of music mingle.
Sure enough
Vargas Llosa rings a doorbell
in Vicksburg Mississippi
and who stands in the doorway
wearing a real thin nightgown?
Tom Waits akimbo and singing
How the angels gonna sleep
when the Devil leaves the porch light on?
Vargas Llosa says it's how it goes
when God's away on business.
