Snare

There is a haunting spiralling sound playing among the deep beating drums. This sound is inside my head and I want everyone to hear it, but the lips I press on the saxaphone won’t make the thing even hum right. I want to bust up this bit of metal with pure will, but I try again, each note shrieking through my fingers.

Buddy is banging on the drums. I want to make the biggest sound in the universe. God cauterwauling. The thumb beat holds the air. The noise happens, it rises from my lungs into the stiff lung of the saxaphone. The whole world is swimming with hot breath. The double thump of Buddy’s congo drum triples. The big sound is aching through my fingers. Sweat is dripping into my eyes, folding and stretching Buddy’s face. He doesn’t even see me. His eyes are shut and his hands are in furious motion. Drum is in motion. Buddy is deep inside, not here tonight. I’m here, ‘cause this electricity is the only thing keeping me awake.