Tabula Rasa










Where are you Mr. Trumpet Man?
I have only met you once but it was only conversation that set the gap between us.
I have only seen you once.
When you looked at me I looked at you.
I could only feel my breaths get shorter as I reached for air like I reached for talent like your own.
Of course I could learn to play trumpet in my car and play to John Coltrane’s Blue Train too.
But it wasn’t the instrument.
Why did you look at me? Why did you not speak to me?
I expected a simple smile and a wave and never to see you Mr. Trumpet Man again.
But you only looked into me with the highest level of angst.
Why could I not listen to you? You made me feel awkward.
I felt like I had continued to walk but my body stayed and listened longer.
Your music was no greater than my interest in listening to you.
I realized I was no longer listening to your music but the deep breaths and thoughts I had been producing that very moment.
Soon the only tempo I was hearing was my own heartbeat.
I tried everything to forget you Mr. Trumpet Man.
Can you understand that?
You didn’t do anything wrong. You had no intention of striking me.
Or did you?
I keep wondering why you chose me to be your victim to silence.
I do not mean to jump to conclusions but I have my own story for you Mr. Trumpet Man.
Maybe you were caught in playing like others that you never created anything spectacular yourself.
That happens to me Mr. Trumpet Man.
I feel like a plane competing with a star sometimes.
But the plane is not a star. And never will be.
Nor the stars ever fly or change colors.
Does that make any sense Mr. Trumpet Man?
Like if your car is a box you cannot find the exit for.
Have you ever considered driving somewhere?
Who cares about the other trumpet players!
You can be the best if you step out of your car and play for others than the radio.
The radio likes to hear its own music not others.
That’s why I don’t sing along to songs I enjoy.
It irritates the radio.
The radio plays how it should sound so I let it be Mr. Trumpet Man.
Who are you Mr. Trumpet Man?
I hope you stepped out of your car. Or drove somewhere.
I hope you don’t live with your parents.
That’s like the car if you imagine hard enough.
If your wife left you I’m sorry Mr. Trumpet Man.
I hope she didn’t but if she did I am sorry.
And if she did I hope you looked for other girls.
Like if the tune Mr. Radio is playing is terrible that you change it to what you like.
(The radio doesn’t mind that)
Just make sure Mr. Trumpet Man. Wherever you are that maybe you should turn off your radio and listen to your own melody.