Street Corner Symphony

Gentle music, drifts around the alley like butterflies.

I breathe deep, letting the bite of the night air sting my lungs. With one hand I reach up and swipe the tears from my eyes.

“Susan stop, wait!”

I hear him calling and I don’t want to look back. I don’t want to see him anymore, but I have to. I steal one last quick glance over my shoulder, I don’t even stop walking. He’s standing there, dress shirt open, lipstick on his collar, holding up his pants.

“Susan!” he calls desperately. I don’t stop.

Tonight was my birthday. I was supposed to be going out with Johnny and my girlfriend April, but it looks like that isn’t going to happen, as Johnny and April apparently know each other better than I do.

I turn down an alley, then onto a side street then another alley, until I‘ve lost my way back. It doesn’t matter I tell myself, I’m never going back there. Though somewhere in the back of my head I know that I have to get my things out. Everything I own is in that apartment.

I reach into my coat pocket and pull out a pack of Salem black labels, pulling one out before I realize that I must have set my lighter down on the table by the front door while I tried to figure out the noises I was hearing as I got home an hour early�"I stop myself from reliving that memory. I remember I’d had a pack of matches at one point, and I began desperately patting myself down, searching without success. I leave the cigarette hanging from my lips, hoping maybe I’ll run into someone with a light.

I keep walking; the sounds of my footsteps bouncing hollowly off rough walls fading away down the alley. The further I walk the quieter my steps become until they’re almost silent and in their place I begin to hear something.

At first it’s just soft tinkering, barley loud enough to hear. The further I walk the louder it gets, gentle music, drifting around the alley like butterflies, light and playful but with darker tones and heavy notes. I begin walking faster trying to catch more of it, the end of the alley looms ahead, and the music seems to be fading now. I begin to sprint eager to hear how the song ends but my footsteps drown out the music once more and I dash around the corner to a melody purely my own.

An old theater looms before me, towering overhead. Its door sticks out oddly from the corner of the building and old band posters obscure its walls; plastered one over the other, torn and faded, flapping in the wind like long forgotten ghosts. A young man sits, his head back and his eyes closed, resting on the front steps. In his hands is a worn guitar, black and green like a cat’s eye. A half smoked cigarette dangles loosely from his lips.

“Excuse me.” I say softly.

The man looks up startled. His eyes flashed open, catching the light of the setting sun and flashing a green that matches his guitar, sharp and electric.

“Sorry” he begins to stand up, grabbing a bag and slinging his guitar over his shoulder. “I’ll move somewhere else.”

“No.” The word rushes from my mouth and he  turns to look at me. “I was just wondering if I could borrow a lighter.”

He smiles, and brushes some of his hair away from his eyes.

“Normally, people just tell me to bugger off around here.”

I smile, intrigued by his nonchalance.

“I don’t have any right to tell you to move.”

 “Most people think they do.” He slips his hand into his pants and pulls out a worn black Zippo. “Names Darius.”

“Susan” I take the lighter and light my cigarette before handing it back “I liked your song, what were you playing?”

“This?” he swings his guitar around and once again plays the gentle melody I’d heard walking down the alley.

I nod and take a long drag from my cigarette. “That’s the one.”

“It’s a song I wrote when things weren’t going well; it’s got some words that no one except for me understands.”

“Can I hear them?”

Darius smiles and begins to play that soft melody. I feel the music, and close my eyes. Darius begins to hum, like a mother to a new born infant, making sounds and noises that dance with his gentle melody, not exactly words but sounds that could be the suggestion of words. I feel myself begin to sway, caught like a snake by his music. The melody begins to swell and grow, moving erratically, flowing from one sound to another like a wild mountain stream. Then the music shifts again and I can feel it pushing towards that inevitable crescendo. I fight to keep the music going, swaying feverishly, but I step out of beat and the song ends.

I open my eyes slowly, speaking with half closed lids.

“Thank you.” the words slips like rain from my lips.

I finish opening my eyes to find myself alone. My first instinct is to scream, to yell, to let the whole f*****g world know how its sick sense of humor is destroying me:  but the scream grabs hold of my throat and forces itself back down, to be replaced with a pitiful sob. I fall to my knees, scaring away the butterflies that had been resting there.

I look up and watch as they flit about watching iridescent greens twirl away into the night sky and once again I hear that song. Once again I hear his song. The melody swirls in my mind, the words finally seeming to take root, slipping and sliding around until I know what they’re trying to say. I stand up laughing, listening to those words in my mind, following their guidance. Slowly I begin to walk, putting one foot in front of the other. Moving without real purpose or direction, but my steps become more sure and I begin to race forward, dancing off to a tune only I can hear. I turn down alley after alley, side street after side street until I‘ve lost my way back and once again I laugh. The world is my dance hall, and my partner is waiting for me, waiting somewhere off in that night sky.