"Bach at Dusk"
by
Paloma

"One coffee, lots of sugar"
"One yogurt shake with papaya"

Trees laden with white fireflies....
a black wrought iron table for two

"Let's sit here"
"This is relaxin' "
"What a rough week"

Shadows crawl across the sienna tiled
      plaza...
The pink of dusk follows...

"Do you hear that?"
"What?  Music?"

Drifting like smoke over the
      plaza.....

The two men amble toward the concrete
      fountain

"Hey,  a band"
"Quartet,  buddy,  it's a quartet"
"Let's stay and listen"

Bows against strings,
nimble fingers racing along fingerboards

"This song reminds me of a
      chase...like that chase...remember?  down 8th and back up
10th?"
"It's not a song" a sigh in resignation "it's Bach...Brandenburg Concerto. 
The theme is
played by one instrument and picked up by another."
"Yeah,  like a chase"

Another sigh

He had often been ribbed by others about
      Hutch's superior attitude toward him, his
sarcastic remarks

"It's o.k.  Hutch just doesn't want
      me to be ignorant...that's just his way...and that's o.k.
 by me"

Steadfast loyalty

Water at the base of the fountain,
a chorus of singers

"This is great!...I never heard music
      like this before"
"There is so much wonderful music,  Starsk...I remember concerts by the
lake....fireworks...the glorious things that man can do"
"I feel like God is right here,  Hutch,  in this moment,  in this beautiful
music...it feels
 good...deep down good"

A breeze brushes his cheek.  Starsky 
      relaxes,  his eyes close...
he
           hears
                         the
                                        best
                                                     of
                                                                man

The blond man smiles,  a Mona Lisa
      smile....

***********************************************

At this hour...his eyes open...
he
	sees
			the
					worst
							of
								    man

A beloved friend...pierced by evil's
      rage...now limp as a string puppet on the blue
couch...his breath a slender thread between life and death...a bottomless ache in
Hutch

If I could hold in my hands...that
      Friday...at dusk...the tiled plaza...Bach...if I could
inhale that Splendor,  Peace....  I am suffocating!...God,  please rescue me!

He sees the soft, slumbering Starsky, 
      pill induced slumber...please rescue him!

"Hey,  buddy,  I have a present for
      you"
"Really?...let me see"
"No,  just lay there..." fingers lightly close the dark eyes,  "hear the
goodness and majesty
of man..."  Hutch caresses his friend's brow... a leaned- in whisper..."and feel
God right
here with us"
"He will rescue us"

And the living room becomes fragrant with
      Bach

God gave us music that we might  pray
      without words