Kurt Lurvey interrupts two surgeons in the hospital
elevator debating spine procedures.
He advises them his scoliosis job went well.
He wore a halo brace screwed to his skull
and shows them the scars.
The docs stiffen. Then smile.
We sing in Kurt’s wheelchair van after his job
inspiring patients who face withering pain.
He follows me on Handel’s baritone aria,
The Trumpet Shall Sound, missing a few notes.
His joy atones for mistakes.
We croon it a cappella for the hospital volunteer coordinator.
She books us to serenade 400 people at the annual luncheon.
I unleash my falsetto on our improvised cadenza.
Kurt follows me, a third lower, more or less,
like a couple of alpha wolves.
