Dress right.

Dress.

And snap.

I snap my head

to the right. 

I align my heels as my eyes begin to wander.

I see instruments,

glistening in the hands of their owners

who stand at perfect attention.

We march and I hear them,

the instruments,

flooding me, covering me in music.

I hear the bass drum,

sound as wide as the universe,

dense and solid as a rock.

I hear the trumpets,

resounding across the empty stands,

vanishing into places unknown.

I see the clarinets,

bodies of the deepest black, 

keys glittering as fingers glide across them.

I hear the tuba,

deep and hollow,

yet full and flowing.

Three. Four.

Step.

And close.