The night the Rhymer went whack

30

Enter, The Soundman.

Pleats knife blade-sharp, cufflinks glistening in the summer sun, wingtips pointing east, hat, tie and socks matching the same color as his pinkies’ fingernails. Blue today. Blue was the mood. Not in sadness but in conjunction with the crisp cloudless sky. On his way to his office but first, he must visit The Soundman. Right there on Broadway, a gentleman, many years ago, had set up a booth. A long booth barely six feet wide by six and a half feet tall that stretched nearly the entire length of the block. Many wondered, how so, how could this guy get away with this for so many years just steps away from Wall Street?

But Straffe knew, for he and The Soundman had become dear friends these past ten years. He too, at first, wondered when he began working in the financial district, but like everyone else, The Soundman just smiled and instructed him to “pass through.” And Straffe did.

Imagine being in the hustle and bustle of the big city and you need a solace, a soundproofing moment to unwind and escape the rat race. Like a re-birthing of sorts, where you enter stressed and exit anew. So, as one can imagine, when The Soundman first constructed this concoction, he was confronted by policemen, city officials, maintenance men, you name it, not just inquiring as to what the hell was he doing, but demanding him to tear it down. But he continued and completed then gestured, “pass through.” And they did, emerging just like everyone else since; they were reborn into a positive light. With no more troubles, a new landmark was born—along with Straffe’s soul.

A bank president, Straffe was exceptional at what he did. Shrewd, conniving, the gift of gab, powerful, arrogant and most of all, rich. Not yet thirty years old, he owned the town. With an exclusive penthouse on Broadway, he walked the streets with a security detail as if he was the king of New York. He had it all, he thought, but that first trip through the soundbooth changed his life forever. “Enlightened is how I emerged,” he told everyone. Having not heard silence for years, once inside, he was able to hear his inner self, his inner being, the voices of his soul, his ancestors and his future descendants. He heard energy, love and life itself, escaping his present and entering his past and future.

And The Soundman knew.

Entering and exiting was a ritual. Millions passed through and he could sense everyone’s first time. He’d grab your hand and escort you to the entrance. “See you on the other side,” How would say, smiling toward them. An elderly gentleman doing this for years, he’d gingerly make his way down the block, not walking in step with his passenger but just a slight bit ahead on the outside so he could arrive at the end first, with his hand extended to welcome and acceptingly guide them into their future. So Straffe emerged just like most people, unsteady, woozy and awed.

Caught by The Soundman’s extended hand.

He then proceeded on his way to work and even said, “Hello,” to everyone he normally spoke to as he headed to his office, but he noticed that he felt joy-less yet more soulful. He sat at his desk and fiddled with his paper clips, doodled on his notepad and tapped his fingers lightly on his large desk calendar. He stared blankly at his computer screen, never booting it up. And for hours he just sat, reminiscing on his parents, grandparents and childhood friends he hadn’t thought of in years.

The good and the bad.

Remembering funerals he didn’t attend because he “had to work,” unnecessary arguments, fights, all the lies and all the hate. Tears of joy and shame filled his morning and well into his afternoon and by the time he left, late into the evening, many probably thought the boss, always working hard, first in and last out, actually had done something but on this day, it was the complete opposite. He had done absolutely nothing, just pacing, staring out his vast window and thinking.

He finally left walking, seemingly floating, his way home carrying a different feeling within himself. Now seeing people for who they were, the right and the wrong, not the skin and the flesh. He felt their existence, blinded by the light of their inner glow. Now able to block out all the sounds of the city and being straight oblivious to his surroundings. Now home and under his bed covers, he continued to experience that feeling. He chuckled in thanks that no harm was done to him in that state of euphoria as he settled and fell into a deep sleep.