Why I can’t play like you, Freddie.

poetry

I play the sax,
you see.

It is fundamentally
different
from the valved bugle
(trumpet,
some call it)
with which
you make your
living

I can not flutter
or wail quite
the the same,
Freddie.

I wish I could,
though,
sometimes.

Red Clay was
a killer,
after all.

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