It wasn’t his fault that he heard a hard bass
and a fast tempo
and that he wanted to pound his fist against hard tables.
He was born with the sort of anger
that imprisoned him and drove him to success.
But she heard violins and falling leaves
and the shhh of water down a jagged stream.
They heard the music differently because of their wiring,
but it was the era of irony and juxtapositions.
Their love was a melody of messy arrangements.