Bill Frisell was back in town,
he reached out for a chat; he
remembered the review I wrote

last time, he was a fan of
the podcast. He signed my record
before I could ask. The pleasure

had all been his. And now, I’m awake –
listening to a lesser guitarist, and
thinking even more of Bill Frisell.

I won’t go near what this dream
says about me. I still live
with that, most days.