Buying the Bones

I’m not sure what anything means,
and I’m convinced my house is haunted,
but I drove to Groth Music to buy bones—

slick, clicky slats of ebony.
Whenever I feel blue and unwanted
and can’t tell what anything means,

I go ahead and get ready to make the scene
anyway, to run a gauntlet
of grinning, clacking, striking bones.

And the reason I don’t feel so all alone
is, I bought a taco and put salsa on it.
But don’t ask me to explain what it means

that my bones have all been disarranged—
sacks of mixed bones from Pakistan.
I drove to Groth Music to buy bones

because I wanted crazy tunes.
We'll learn how to clack by searching the internet—
which signifies little in the broader scheme,
but I drove to Groth Music to buy bones.