Small town anywhere a mother is
driving her son to the party
because that’s where the boy is
the boy that makes him feel like
a bird just out of the nest part clumsy
wing part maple dream when every
little leap might lead to sky where
each Saturday is its own new
season where the lights will
heartbeat bright and deep
and calf will rise against calf where
a song will begin where he’ll open
his mouth to sing instead a
timid moment will bloom to power
first lips like the warm wet mouthpiece
of a trumpet he’ll remember
that music every first of his life
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