The old man had

Gotten a stereo

Years ago


It was a system

That was known

As high fidelity


And he listened

To much music

Over that stereo


And those songs

Were hard, smooth,

Buttery, velvety

Jazz, soul and everything

In between


And those songs settled

Into a committed sound


And after a while

Those songs began to

Sound the same and he

Sought out more variety


And that high fidelity

Became infidelity and

Those songs that had once

Been so smooth faded into

Something like telephone static


And years later at the funeral of

A good friend, the old man said

That he and the deceased had been

Womanizers and self-proclaimed

“Hell on wheels”


And the buttery, velvety

Soulful sounds filled the

Mortuary and I believe some

Even rose from the dead


And years later, I too was

Experiencing my own

Situation between high fidelity

And infidelity


(Minus the velvety, buttery smoothness)


I called the old man

To ask his



And through the static

Of the telephone, his voice

Came in loud and clear:


Ha ha ha ha haha

Haha ha ha ha ha

Ha ha  hahaha ha


Ha ha ha

Ha ha ha ha ha

Ha ha ha ha ha ha


(Then a pause)


…ok, now what did you

Say your problem was?



© 2015 Tony Robles







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