It's euphoric.
The way his fingers trace the straight
metal strings laid tightly over
the sunset wood instrument.
It's almost as tall as him
or maybe it's taller.
I remember the way his eyes would close:
Body slowly, subtlety, swaying.

You looked beautiful.
Extremely beautiful in all of your wild glory
and small-town fame.
I guess it’s sort of strange that
In all honestly,
I hated you.
I still don't fully appreciate your presence.
But watching you from the back rows
Of a high school auditorium,
From your hands coming forth a
Euphoric noise that seemed to coruscate
Atop the bodies sitting stiff in the audience.
Time always slowed down when you
Played.
But not my breath.
You made my breath rigid.