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Hum

Hum

I’m sitting under fluorescent lights, half-awake and digesting a lemon-poppy muffin. Are poppy seeds the opiate of breakfast? I’m scanning the wires on a slow Monday for anything that rises to the level of news. There ain’t much. There may be a million stories in the naked city, but up here in the fully-clothed suburbs excitement is thin on the ground. I listen to the first bars of a jangly song from 1990. It sounds like many of the the jangly songs from 1990, with a singer more or less hitting the intended pitches and the guitarist carrying the weight. I can see through the studio’s Venetian blinds that the sun is up. We’re so far from Venice, in every meaningful way. A friend said the war in Ukraine is the international conflict version of a white woman being kidnapped. I google “Yemen” and try to catch up.

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21 March 2022
Latham NY

Published in Albany My poems Poetry

3 Comments

  1. […] other day I wrote a piece called “Hum.” My friend Patrick said it needed some noir saxophone behind it. He’s a saxophonist, […]

    • Jason Crane Jason Crane

      Thanks very much for reading it!

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