I nod each finger in sequence down the digit line as fast as I can - scale of C played on an air piano like I first learned on a real piano there is ouch to my speed discomfort in the eighth notes pain in the sixteenths I’m trapped in ballads the bittersweet kind the kinds that play like a pillow not for sleeping I flex my fingers again and surrender arthritis I live in a slowing world of melodies, the simplest of whole notes, slipping through time

When Ilia’s steel blade first failed to bite the ice, he performed an unrehearsed butt rotation and a teeth-sucking sound was heard whirling out chimneys, vents and open windows after America’s spin king fell two more times, baritone groans became hopeless growls and he shambled off, head bent, shattered by his complete letdown, tears begging to be free in sports, failure keeps a ruthless score, no points for expectation or effort, deductions for being too human but

Dear Gabby: My one-hundred-year-old friend was feeling despondent and decided to brush his teeth with his left hand, ditto with the cup of morning coffee as he read the morning paper from back to front for a change. On leaving the house, he left the walker and picked up his cane, and almost danced out the front door, telling me later, everything had shifted. What do you think about that? Dodging Depression Dear Dodging: That’s brilliant - have ice cream for break