Everywhere Blue

Everywhere Blue — page 5
Fridays mean oboe lessons Gripping my instrument case and hunching my shoulders against the cold I walk four blocks west to my music teacher’s house I love walking If I lived in the city instead of boring old Bennett Corners I’d walk everywhere Especially the Kimmel Center for concerts But I’m only twelve It’ll be years before I can move to Philadelphia As I walk up Mr Rimondi’s driveway I count my steps Eleven An odd number is not a good number Something will go wrong I could add an extra step a tiny one but that would be cheating Dread fills my chest like cold sludge This will not be a good lesson Crushed leaves rotting against the stoop smell like the turkey feather I use to clean the saliva 2