Infinity and The Mute Pedal

Love and Music

He walked in a figure eight because a numerologist from Virginia he met at a port in Fiji told him that infinity was an overlooked, powerful concept. He remembered that Peter Tosh was on the sound system, she had blue eyes, liked a splash of grenadine in her vodka tonics.

When he told her his wife was the lead singer of his band she seemed less interested, but she was in the Calypso Lounge that night, watching him botch the fingerings to More Than a Feeling by Boston.

Or was it Carry On My Wayward Son by Kansas?

It was a “place” band.

Curtis walked in figure eights.

He was in a bad place.

Where was he? 

Grand Rapids, Michigan? 

Yeah.

He walked into the same resale store twice, walking in figure eights. The woman smiled, but he knew he made her uncomfortable.

Bought a watchband to put her at ease. He knew he’d never wear it.

Picked up the pace on his figure eights, started thinking about the Superman movie, when Superman flew around the earth to spin it backward to bring Lois back to life.

That wasn’t gonna happen with him and Donna’s relationship no matter how fast he walked figure eights around this unfamiliar town.

Cher’s song about turning back time popped into his head, Donna putting on the long black wig.

He had walked past the same bar five times and the door was now propped open, chalkboard outside advertising a whiskey special and a new hot pepper cider.

The Pixies crooned from a jukebox that had abstract cobalt lights shining out through drunkenly placed local band stickers.

His whole life was music, all his memories were tied to music and Donna and they were all in a strange net, like two trapeze artists who had fallen from the sky and were rolling around, too disoriented to climb from the net.

Curtis ordered a beer and mispronounced the whiskey from the chalkboard outside.

The bartender corrected him, politely, and Curtis tipped ten bucks for the round.

He pulled all the bills from his wallet.

“How much,” he asked the bartender, “to unplug the jukebox and put an out-of-order sign on it for two hours? ”

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