Keyboard

The odd thing was that I’d just

arrived home from being at Sound

Source—playing with all the piano

keyboards, listening to John C,

the salesman my brother told me

to see—and my phone is ringing. 

It’s Carol.  Hey, I just need to vent,

she says.  Hey, I say—interrupting her—

Do you have a keyboard you want to sell? 

She says: I have one I’ll give to you. 

I say, No, seriously; I’m looking for

a keyboard—you’re out of a job—I’ll

pay you!  Do you know if it’s a full

keyboard, or just 66 keys?  She says,

I don’t know—the whole thing, like

always.  You plug it into the computer.

I say, Oh, I don’t want to plug it into

a computer; I want one I can plug

right into the wall. She says, I thought

you said you needed a keyboard for

your computer!  I say, No, I need a

keyboard so I can learn to play piano.

What did you want to vent about?

She says: jobs on Craigslist are a scam.

I say, yeah—the keyboards there

are aren’t any good either.  Okay,

see you tomorrow, she says.