The Recording Artists                                         

            Each got there separately
            Over the slick of nighttime streets
            Quickly through the crumbling neighbourhoods
            Up the elevator to the studio

            They had to stop and start

            The mikes were changed several times,
            The pianist fiddled with the chords,
            The engineer arranged to add some strings
            With a button

            The replay sounded good for what it was

            But for the hell of it
            They sneaked away together 
            By themselves
            And ran it through 
            Start to finish
            Down the fire escape

            Until somebody had to call the cops


            Emanuel E. García, 2014