Brahms Ensembles Me

Brahms pushes a piano into my ear. I hear the stool creak as he sits. He does not introduce the music, he expects me to remember it, know it, eat it. He lights up a Havana, clarinet and violin cough inside a woody cochlear. Viola takes hold of a long nostalgic ligament loosening a stirrup bone. Bearded old Brahms shifts from one large butt cheek to another, chords shudder the music trans-locates us as we share the lingering hint of Bratwurst on his nicotine stained fingers. Not being musically trained I am grateful to accompany a cello and viola on a kazoo shaped like a nose.