Three Notes

Photo by RP Thomas


The Missing Wag

Neither Big Mike nor Harry Reems, the
P.I. learned, had set eyes on the young
man from Oberlin. Dooley watched the

Overhead fan spin ‘round and ‘round;
a soft sound like a rubber band
strummed thrice, followed by a rest

Of equal length. Repeated, the flatness
of the composition was its strength,
a subtle, monophonic abstraction

Devoid of a dynamic counterpoint.
Dooley imagined a pianist’s repetitious
middle C, inspired by Erik Satie’s

Symphonic deconstructions, or Miles’
reliance on silence, or an atonal
rebellion; the Sex Pistols in full throttle.

He’d talked to all of Rex Dern’s friends
but one, the wag Ted, whom Tex had
seen leaving his bar with Berle Marks

At  2 a.m. Scattered in the rustic room like
pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, the intersecting
clues filled the P.I. with a familiar dread.

The music ebbed in the Irishman’s head.
No more did he envision an easy resolution.
Talent’s dissolute wag Ted was missing.


TS