The music just
shivers through me
sear themselves to my spine
and let little droplets of harmony
seep into my bloodstream.
I’m awash with feeling when I’m trapped inside a song. I’m a Purple Majesties girl through and through, and when I think of those peaks, against those beautiful baby blue sky eyes, I think of Bluegrass.
I think of the picking and slinging of notes, and the stretch of a fiddle saddled with the cry of acoustic guitar. The pleading in the voices straining to get out of a bluegrass song, it kills me.
Last night we sat on the porch of a bar, it was empty inside and they closed the garage doors, barring us from the A/C. We tipped up to the bar and chatted up the bar tender, making him smile. And we made ourway back to the porch, a cool breeze was starting to drift in, and my friend lit a cigarette.
She exhaled the smoke at the same rate that I sipped my wine from its stemless glass.
Classic rock and idle chatter.
She’s my Monongahela Hike, and my Hocking Hills Heart. She’s my partner in adventure and crime, the bad-idea-jeans joiner and I enjoy our hang time.
But mostly I enjoy the way music speaks to her soul, almost the same way it reads mine.