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Finger pickin’
A tablet housed in a keyboard
I riff a base line run of where
to begin the bottom line

And it’s all crap and discord
And I turn to a capo that
no longer clamps down

And I fret, fret and fret
trying to recall
when last
I did a dawn… in the near
distance… morning bourbon
then memory, yet again,
fails to strike a cord and I’m spared

…I guess

A bowling metaphor poem. Just how much more 70+ year old can one get.
And if that’s not clue enough, last night I listened to the last third of Dodgers/Giants via a Sony 6 transistor battery powered AM/FM radio.

That’s my old 7th gen iPad bt to a Brydge Keyboard.

And I was listening to the below stream when writing this.

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