The Dead Ringer

After selling my electric

hollow body M and bass while fiending I

went to see my grandpa, who taught

me to play when I was younger.

He died, not from disease but something

as accidental. The man who took them

ran his fingers over the necks then

bent over close, close over the strings at rest

then rang harmonics at the twelfth,

leaned back and gazed. I tried to sell

them both for $350 but could only

get two, but that's enough -

and after I could go and visit

where my grandpa had lived.

An empty house but

after entering already fiending

and fixing a drink the old man walked

into the hall with a grin and a string,

did not say anything but guided

me to a room, tied a bell to my

finger and took it with him as he left

and closed the door. His old acoustic leaned

against the wall. I picked it up and played,

experimentally at first but feeling

the fiending hacking harder hoping he'd

answer the bell.