I want to bust open the border

First row of the Sunday summer string ensemble

Santa Monica Symphony tells me

Jewish Hungarian Klezmer tunes

Brahms four movements

I am in the musician’s lap

The flute needs to be vacuumed

With cloth pushed through the piping hole

Flutist waters her mouth from allergic dryness

Each piece is previewed by the lawyer violinist

His giddy passion burps his borders

I slurp some coffee cream to keep awake

The arrangement tackles tunes in my head

The distractions come and go

I need to understand my border

My aloneness keeps me sane

Wiping away a struggling conversation

Taking a smooth ride from weariness

Stomach gas stays in place

Clapping replaces catharsis

The Laemmle theater makes me proud

I love my border freedom

My pout is happy

The throbbing lip waits to sting

Cheeks flare a breezy smile

I stretch stand and move away

Relieving my bladder without burning

Hunger smooths my senses

I pass the 3^rd street

Destined to The Place

Shading my pale face

Opening my zip loc

Staring at kasha, rice and kale

Smothered with olive empanada

Melody lingers as I read about

A Jewish shoe manufacturer in China

Kindle brightens another border

I accumulate my hat and bandana

 

Marching back to my hybrid

Merrily driving to my mindful trip

Dipping my shoeless socks on

Hardwood floors

Not caring for a moment

Bordering on sensibility

And contentment