, buries my

Alan, Nick, and Michele bounced into the backseat of my 1999 Camry CE (champagne). After another languid, sober afternoon A’s game, they teased me, their chauffeur. We were all a bit tired, but happy to be crammed together, and I was looking forward to driving us home through the hills, windows wide open to pull in the redwoods and eucalyptus.

As they fumbled into their seatbelts, I rifled through my CD wallet, chose, slid it in, and rolled down the windows. That piano began — the left hand marking time, the right’s 5/2/3 progression leading us in  and the kids, my childhood friends in the backseat, were quiet, they listened, and all three began to sing.

“And  if the snow  ”

 

.

.

.

.

[August 2006]

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