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my fridge is empty
I bought beer
drank it
sat down to play music
everything strained against my progress
my clumsy fingers made near immobile

I gave it up
searched my cabinets for airplane bottles
stored away pints
empty
I drove to a parking lot
swearing, approving, and disapproving
of my poor taste

My lips played a ramshackle tune
while I searched for rocks
something to break something else
I found a crumbled brick
and tossed it into a rotten creek bed

what am I supposed to do
when the woman crooning jazz standards
inside my ear runs out of breath?