I AM
“What is that?” Asked little sketched girl of eight or nine or ten. pointing to the left pocket of my blue jeans with good reason, sticking out of it was half a trumpet. “Oh that old thing, well that’s Coco. a battered old fussy Russian thing.” From out of my trousers she came torn, tattered and flipping tarnished. I kissed Coco a tweak letting measured ill skilled scales and their relative rights lighting bright, little nymphs smiley noses crinkled faces, revealing steel teeth. “Complains a tad at first before she is warm but actually is not choosy. We have been together in love, this one and me a century long time thick and thin through. No temperamental stew, brutally never is she, particular or possessive. Not like the new, pretty ones of peculiar shapes. Wink to bigger eyes. Meticulous encouragement needing at all times a bright shine, or they shan’t sing beautifully. See A match made in heaven is she and me oh yes, together we fit perfectly.” With a flick of my wrist and a tip of my hat, a somersault accomplished Coco, to where she once sat. Without a word, the girl stared back blank, looking through my brown-eyed tales she smiled vacant and ran away to her friends, stashed at a safe distance for that swift getaway. “He is like, totally crazy.” said the girl of eight or nine or ten, looking back, I winked in agreement turning Hell yes my friends.