sometimes happy people die
that is just what happens when
the needle goes into far and
there is no one on the other
end - i often fear for my middle
brother - his addiction so
strong to jazz: he can play
for hours on hours until even
the sax gets tired of hearing
itself - he has so many girls
so many women, so many
men - it really does not matter
the laughter
his playing keeps him alive
i
fear
his
death
more
than
mine
