Ode to a Violin in California by Pablo Neruda

A rainy night in San Diego is rare.  Sometimes I am so struck by the water on my windshield and I often feel like I'm in a painting.  I sometimes feel transported to the streets of Paris and think of Renoir but last night it was something else.  It felt more modern and I loved every red light and the parking lot that was the I8.  It felt a little like Pablo Neruda or maybe even Tom Waits. Maybe I was just feeling electric because I got a phone call from the Dog rescue that we could take Jake home.  Either way traffic and I had a love affair last night.  Thanks San Diego.

I sought that violin in the night.
I searched street by pitch-black street,
went house by weathered house,
star by star.
It faded
and fell silent
then suddenly surged,
. . . . . . . . . . .a flare
in the brackish night.
It was a pattern of incendiary sound,
a spiral of musical contours,
and I went on searching
street by street
for the dark violin’s
lifeline,
the source submerged in silence.
Finally, there
he was,
at the entrance to a bar:
a man and his
. . . . . .hungry violin.

Ode to a Violin in California by Pablo Neruda