On Tour with The Billy Tipton Saxophone Quartet

A woman walked toward me stuck her fingers in her eyes to avoid looking at me it’s like playing piano she said (that easy) like playing Bach she said (that easy) or running with a broken champagne flute in your mouth easypeasy she said. I rubbed the hairy wen on my left wrist. It pained me to think of his constricted chest the muscle pull yet I would gleefully take hot tongs to his tongue nothing worse than feeling duped than waking up to cold meat and beer. The Portuguese boy in the cigarette factory lopped off his thumb he said I’m no performing monkey when the ambulance drove away lights pulsing as cuckoo-shrikes rose from the mud to announce their lack of water. Darfur water conflict. Tibet water conflict. Sudan water conflict. Water stressed countries. The next day I discovered a velvet bag in a chicken pot pie. I was not the best hostess. I had to play Snow White in Port Townsend that night. I wore paper slippers the blue and yellow dress my skin white as an egg. I rode the ferry first car at the prow. I let down the chain let down the wedges at my front wheels let down my pinched bodice let down my windows and slid into the Pacific Ocean.