poem
In the Key of F
November 2, 2005
Tom said:
“Car horns honk in the key of F.”
I laughed, but I believed him.
I have a good ear. Tom’s ear was even better. He could identify the sound of each number On a touch-tone phone.
When I moved to the city I called him. “Guess my new phone number,” I said, and dialed it. He identified all but 2 digits Then corrected himself.
I have a good ear. That always amazed me.
Tom’s not around anymore. But I still want to test his theory Someday In a car with my guitar. An F chord. Honk the horn.
I have a good ear. Tom’s ear was even better. He could identify the sound of each number On a touch-tone phone.
When I moved to the city I called him. “Guess my new phone number,” I said, and dialed it. He identified all but 2 digits Then corrected himself.
I have a good ear. That always amazed me.
Tom’s not around anymore. But I still want to test his theory Someday In a car with my guitar. An F chord. Honk the horn.