lives in a velvet case

with a satin fitted sleeve

and shiny silver buckles

that snap safely shut.

This is the case he won

after he performed

The Bach double Concerto.

And yet these days

he refuses to ever play,

so the case is buried

somewhere underneath

the new golf clubs

or Patagonia jackets.

Instead he has a job

in Silicon Valley,

where all day he fiddles

with internet statistics,

and sends emails

from a dark cubicle.

He wears giant jeans,

chugs Starbucks

to keep himself awake.

His wife is Japanese

and speaks little English.

But she cooks for him,

and piles up his plate

with rice and tempura,

and sets him a spot

in front of the TV.

They sit together and eat

the deep fried spears,

mounds of white rice

until she finally asks,

How was work today?

He shovels in more food,

staring at the TV

that yells and yells and yells.