“How Deep Is the Ocean,”
his solo like Buddha
preaching, telling us
what we didn’t know
we knew. When my son
was born, I stopped
judging my own parents,
my mother practicing
cello each morning at 6,
my father’s jealousy.
Every family is tiresome
in its own way. When the set ends,
I buy drinks for the band.
We raise our glasses, toasting
the tuba, all of us agreeing that
without music, life’s nothing
more than a dirt sandwich.
