for alto saxophone and stereophonic playback
for Dave Reminick
ginastera went out walking by the river
his hat turned down
right hand motionless in his right pocket.
no one knows him.
he has gone so long wandering
away from the markets of fishes and apples
away from the telephone embryo and radio orchestra
that no one knows his name.
ginastera walks down to the bank-
from 1969 he hears the tango
in the streets - his love falling short hearts in the stone.
no one sees him drowning in the water
the sinking man in the grey stoned coat
he moves from the twilight of ash
to the aurora of the deep erotic sea.
no one knows him anymore.
ginastera, lonely man,
dragged to the sea with no name.
ginastera, falling tear,
shimmering star of the ocean floor.
ginastera, withered rose,
sad no one sees your lightless death.
sometimes she asks him where his love went.
“i dont know”, he would reply.
“why does my love trouble you?” he asks.
and with the wind frozen over every delicate flower untouched,
she places her finger on his brow.