Arbitrary

As les feux d’artifice — the fires of artifice — 
lit up the night sky over by the Old Port, 
I hit the “Play” button on the cassette Walkman 
and closed my eyes. Before I fell asleep, 
my mobile Nokia began ringing 
from somewhere below me, under where I lay. 
As a layman, I could not explain 
the musical mechanics for why its piercing waltz 
in A major clashed with the piano recording
in F minor playing from my headphones. 
But clash horribly they did, and were it not 
for the dread of answering yet another call 
from my parents, I would have taken off 
my headphones and went searching under my bed.