He opens his hands, shrugs. He says

What I make is all fake, there’s no

song and dance. Let’s say it’s a Thursday.

We are walking down into the city

through the late night cars, drunks,

the cleaning squad in yellow dayglo.

Let’s say the ambulance is wailing

its two notes poor boy, poor boy,

bleeding, dying. Let’s say his name

is Leonardo, the maker of instruments,

all fake, a man I seldom meet, for both us

this is how it is here: grainy, fleeting.

He continues: As to this instrument

by which I am accused yes it is my making

though how became it a Capela, so sold

and listed, why that I cannot tell you.