This Music

I'm bouncing on my ball
Tapping my feet
In my head, visions of far-off lands
And a grungy stage, rowdy crowd
Bobbing their heads along to the Irish lilt.

Bed is made (blanket over the dirty spot)
Pillows plumped
Toilet cleaned and sink scrubbed.
The mirror shows my face
Instead of the spatter of toothpaste.

And I am waiting for a friend to call
Watching him draw by the window
And thinking my life might be perfect
To the soundtrack of this music.

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