The Concert Hall

Posted on June 19, 2008

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My car is the perfect concert hall. In the mornings on my way to work, I sail along in my venue on the freeway and sing my heart out to my audience pretending to be Eilen Jewell or Brett Dennen’s counterpart. In the afternoons in traffic I’m on the dance floor with my boy dancing to Frank Sinatra who is singing to us from the stage. At night, I’m spinning the ice cubes left in my glass while sitting at a small table alone in the back of the dark room listening to Joe Purdy sing about the seasons. Occasionally, when the sky is empty and the moon is brilliant, I’m sitting by a campfire deep in the night listening to Dallas Green and looking up at the stars wondering how long it will be before I reach them.

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