|
|
עמוד:42
Music Lady by Vickie L . Sears Part / On days ofrain , when poetry often came to 1 paper , I'd sneak away from the orphanage , running to leg tautness and chest burn all the way to 15 "' and 65 " streets to the record store . That ' s where the music lady lived . Where there were sounds that made my poetry seem brighter . Where the music lady smiled under high cheekbones , patted my head , and whispered words of encouragement . It wasn't an ordinary record store , then or now . It had 2 listening booths and rows of deep wooden forest-green troughs filled with the faces of musicians and instruments . These were the instruments of the Big Band music my mother liked . Different from the flutes , bells , and drums of my father's family . Different , too , from the silence of the orphanage , except for the dinner bell . Here trumpets and cellos 4 blared' in silence from cardboard covers . Grownups strolled the aisles and flicked through the records , like playing cards , choosing their hand of music before taking it to one of the narrow rectangles , each equipped with turntable and speakers , to listen . The sound-proofed booths created individual worlds of monophonic' magic seeping" through the glass doors . It never really mattered much what was playing , although I began to gravitate to jazz and playful Bach . Bach sounded of creekskipping water and duck laughs . It was hard for me to understand how a man who dressed with lace edging his jacket and pants , and wearing such a ponderous" wig , could have so much fun . Still , I'd walk beside the booths , spiral binder and pencil in hand , searching for just the right music to write near . As casually as a walnutcolored nine-year-old among the tall , mostly white adults could , I'd position myself against a booth ' s doorjamb and lean an ear to sound . I'd close my eyes for filling , follow the strings of music , and slip down into its colors . All other sounds faded . My body , rain rhythm , and the music became all . After a while I could make a poem and slide back into the downpour ' , happy in its beat . I felt special in the rainsong and slow walk home . 1 tautness — tightness . 4 strolled — walked slowly .
|
|