get in there

Missing someone is just love burning a hole in your chest. Yeah, I know that. Everybody knows that.

But did you know that in that fresh and ancient chasm you can fit an entire parade of D-major elephants, and a full four octaves, and a German Shepherd lab, and an Italian hoagie besides?

At least two symphonies of Brahms, and one of them twice over. Six TV remotes, if I've counted right. Four irregular beats, in both three and two, and a squeaky elevator that would, contrary to popular expectation, itself bear the elephants, all at once. And speaking of bears, yes, a bear - a big one and a baby.

A chair to climb and crow on, when you need to stand up, and just the very edge of it, when you need to sit down. Lots of dog hair - oh, God, it's everywhere, isn't it? A scarf and a hat and even the jaunty angle, for free. Nice shoes. Nicer boots. Perhaps a cookie. Perhaps a biscuit for the puppy, too.

Several cars, I saw. Oh, yes - vans and sedans and quite a few of the in-between, with all manner of clattering trunks and motors. License plates not included. About three churches and about six or seven schools, without overlap. A synagogue with a death-trap driveway. My goodness, and TWENTY-FOUR horns!

A violin case, empty. A military band, sort of tossed in sideways, so they're not too happy, but it's alright, they'd never complain. More flats than sharps, seeing as we're on the descending line (it's where the elevator squeaks worse), and a section of hacks who can't play them. The irritating fellow - yes, he's there too, but he serves a purpose, making me think of you.

So now I've patched the hole, with a sort of soulful spackle. Just a temporary fix, though; what really does the trick is the only thing I haven't got to hand. But, you know, we make do.