Modern Mental Hygiene

for Paul Sykes, who left without saying goodbye

Think of your brain as a trombone
     needing slide oil and spit valve relief.
          Frontal lobe as lazy soloist

the first third of its career, etudes
     the only exercise, boring laps
          around the track. Then your dendrites

need a drink. Trombone 
      loaded with breath, a possible lullaby.
           Notes ascending and descending stairs,

crescendos to the attic
     decrescendos to the cellar.
          Etudes as the Kegels of the music galaxy

for stiffer tones and more control over
     melodic ejaculations, many musicians
          reduced to shadows of former fames.

Trombone is only fun until somebody
     pianissimos, pieces of you scattered
          toward a kind of blooming.