191

Edge of Blue

Wayne Wolfson By

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Edge of Blue
For Andrea Parkins



A bored audience. I hate them, I need them. Not even pulling Holly on stage for an impromptu reunion stirs them from their indifference.

Ah, I hate begging you, murder the night, please don't let me see it. Dispose of the body, kiss me. It's all blue blacks, the color of a fruit's skin.

Kill the night in a row of bottles, one long song.

I briefly touch upon the infinite, she is at the mic, in this way we are together again in a way that matters, a way which is honest yet does not involve appetite.

We provide a soundtrack for people doing their own scenes from movies no one will ever see. A decade of clubs, was I wrong, it was not fame which has come, but dawn.

I look down at the horn, it has just enough breath left to murmur "take me home. Tomorrow, me, the music, Lazarus-like, we will be back on stage.

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