my entries for the Construct Cup |
my daddy taught us rhythm at the keyboard— just two fingers, he said. one on each hand, and count: one, two, three, four, five, change. one two three, four five change, one two three, four five change, one-hold, two three repeat, then the chorus: one hold-two, three hold-four, five hold-six, one two three four hold-five one two three four hold-five, and done. in the bass, he rounded out the melody—ohm, pah, pah, ohm, pah, pah, and suddenly, we played music. not just chopsticks. we laughed, sitting on the bench that my mama covered in patchwork—lavender and blue to protect it from scratches and mud and grass stains and the occasional dog slobber. when we knew it, he taught us the bass, and we’d play ohm, pah, pah, while he played chopsticks like we hadn’t heard it before— one-y, two-y, three-y, four, five, six— and we stopped playing to see what he was doing, but he said, just play, and we did, and suddenly, we were playing something new. and then he changed again. we knew better to stop this time, as he played chopsticks one, two, three, four, down, six. and then we switched, so that we could learn. my sister learned best. she plays chopsticks two handed, her left hand on the bass, while her right hand to play the melody. and her children look on and ask, show me how, and they play chopsticks, two fingered and laughing, theme and variations. line count: 50 Prompt ▼ |