Month of Poetry, 2014, Day 9: Bologna

Bologna

Last night
my kid came into my room
strumming the three-quarter guitar slung over his shoulder.
"Is that 'My Sharona'?"
I asked,
wondering where a kid
born in 2001 would have heard "My Sharona."
"Yeah," he said,
"But it's Weird Al's version, 'My Bologna'"

I, whose
musical talent extends to
recognizing the guitar line of "My Sharona" twenty-five years
after I last heard that song,
asked him,
"How can you
hear a song and then just play it?"

"It's easy,"
he said. "I have a
sound-graphic memory."
"What is a sound-graphic memory?" I asked.
"Like a
photographic memory for sound."
"How do you know
you have one of those?" I asked.
"I hear a song once and then I just know it," he said.
"Yes," I said,
"But where did you read about that?"
He laughed.
"I just made it up."

This kid is amazing.
Not only
does he have musical talent and a sense of humor,
but he's a
class A bullshit artist.