FRIDAY: COMPLEX PARTIAL SEIZURE FIVE 

I tingle on a winter Friday, nine pm.

A double-decker bus bursts from behind
the terrace of houses masking a bend.

I can hear the chord that starts

A HARD DAY’S NIGHT: G7A5

When next the song begins at noon in August, 

an indigo sky might blaze with yellow windows.

I doubt I’ll remember why.