Play Me a Skyline
by Ken Whitson,


“I wish you could see this skyline, Michael,” Jane lamented.
“Why, aren’t they all the same?”
“Sure. And all music’s the same too, right? That gives me an idea.”
Listen to this. Jane’s practiced hands conjured musical magic.
Jazz, swing, and so much more smoothing painfully chaotic chords.
“What. Was. That?” whispered Michael, wonder in his voice.
“That, my love, was New York. Want to hear Chicago?”
“Uh, huh,” blind eyes blinking agreement.
Sweet, soulful blues, fused with gritty rock power filled the air—all glass and steel.
“Play another,” Michael begged. “I want to hear the whole world sing.”


Ken is a retired civil servant who hasn’t yet figured out what retirement means.
In turns, he consults, mopes around, and crafts wildly varying types of fiction—literary, horror, humor, as well as many things undefinable.
He often plies Virginia’s backwaters on his kayak, searching for both fish and inspiration.
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