although I wasn't sure about how a woman's stomach could hold a cello
it was clear that this man knew how to do it, knew her soul better than she did
her need to be a cello but also be a mother, daughter and friend
and I wondered how they have met
this cello woman, his muse and maybe they met in a bar a few decades ago
a whiskey in his left hand, his right turning a pencil around in his fingers
pondering what was next in this life that is always
a mystery, isn't it, where women may want to be cellos and men
whales that swallow fishes while seeking truths somewhere else than
this crazy world where a yellow fish may appear blue to the
untrained eye.
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