Keys yearn to mix with change.
~ Nathanael West, Miss Lonelyhearts
When you buy a ticket for the commuter train that runs up and down the San Francisco Peninsula, you get your change in dollar coins. Once a week on my lunch break I grab a handful and shove them into my pocket. They tinkle against my keys as I walk into the used bookshop downtown. Today I picked up a John McPhee book and read, on the first page, about the wandering poles of geologic history, and the drumskins of continental plates in perpetual basso profondo concussion. Big and small, all things conspire to make music.