The hand-me-down shoebox of CDs
Containing such gems as P-Funk and Bob Dylan
Surprised my dusty car stereo with
Bach’s Partita #3,
A prelude to my dad’s death.
It moves with the precision of my father’s fingers
But my father’s fingers age like Paganini.
To dad,
Bach’s Partita #3 is work.
I never asked if he enjoyed it,
And I’m sure he would find that a funny question.
He still plays it
But in an empty apartment
With no woman to love it.
Bach’s Partita #3
A prelude to my mom’s death.