when the musician hits the note perfect
with the accompaniment and the words
a little something inside of me
steps out of the back door, and into a sunny shining
7:30 am summer morning.

Something inside of me takes a bite of
egg yolks cooked with bacon grease.

Something inside of me cruises down hills on a bicycle.
Something holds my little girl hand and jumps into August, Michigan lakes.
Something like warm sheets in the sun.
Something like orange and black birds letting us watch.
A yard sale, or a canoe, or something free.


Something shifts in a comfortable bed, and regains consciousness.
Something drives through rain but can still see clearly.
Something cooks and bakes.

My organs feel pressure and pleasure-pain.
They grasp for more of that sound.
They compel me to shut my eyes and reopen them.
They let little sighs escape from the back of my throat.

That nearly perfect combination coaxes stuck tears.
It brings back and moves forward all at the same time.
It makes me feel faint and it makes me feel awake.