I opened the piano and dusted the keys not that they needed it. I dusted the piano bench. There wasn’t a trace of cum. I sort of wish there was. Just a week ago I was reading a book while Logan practiced. I read a line which started out: He was a person made of hair and ... I don’t remember the rest of it. I was distracted. I’d mistakenly read: He was a person made of air ... Also I was thinking about something I’d overheard while walking in the park on the way home from the library. Two old men and a much younger woman were standing at the entrance of the park talking. They were all dressed in jogging attire, and I assume they’d just finished their run. One of the old men was saying: If God wanted me not to sit he would have given me a spikey tail. That made me chuckle inwardly.

At the time I did not imagine the old man with a spikey tail. I didn’t picture his butt at all. Maybe in part because right after that he said: I learned that in Wisconsin in Bible school. By this time I was past them, and perhaps the old guys were looking at my butt as I walked away. Anyway, I was thinking of the spikey tail story, of telling Logan after he’d finished practicing, and I was reading in the novel, and so the person, a priest, I remember now, was made of air. I was naked. Logan was naked. We’d made love on the couch before he’d started his practice. He was working on his encores. He’d planned to do two, if all went well. Schumann’s “Child Falling Asleep” and the final movement of Prokofiev’s 7^th piano sonata. I love both these pieces, and Logan plays them brilliantly. They are so amazingly different. The Schumann the most perfect, simple, but mysterious lullaby.