Mad Music
by Jaundré van Breda
I go in to buy some beer.
Fred is doing a crossword puzzle.
I’ve known him since
my first hangover.
He looks up at me, blue eyes
surfacing above the rims of his glasses.
“The piano keys are sticky
with liquor
but that,” he says, wiggling
his finger in the air,
“That won’t stop Beethoven
from getting drunk. No sir.
Not on a night like this.”
I nod, pay for the beer
and walk out into the world
alive with the laughter of lunatics,
and the occasional scream
of someone who has heard
the voice of God.
Jaundré van Breda © 2020