Old-fashioned Messenger Ants
for Che Chen

Listen: these two devices are the ears with which the two pianos can hear, upon which they base their improvisational decisions, as they play alongside two real human musicians, who both hear the old-fashioned way (point to both ears.)

At not the same time, the two ears of an ant are pulled out, so that they might hear all the better. A message is conveyed to the now open-eared ant, before it takes a brave leap into some Al Green Chile Stew, made lovingly to be eaten before the arrival of some Barry White Cheesecake.

All are seated round the dinner table, and according to an old French tradition, one lucky bowl contains the stew with the old-fashioned messenger ant inside. Said ant floats up onto the spoon in the shadows of some chiles and potatoes and meat, cruises down the throat, into the stomach, and then – after gathering its bearings, rears back just a little before taking a great internal leap, the greatest singular feat of its very short ant-lifetime, lands up high on the organ above, where it takes a deep, slow, tender ant-bite out of my heart, that was my heart.