Here are the rooms of the ones
that moved you.
Across the hall,
The Gallery of the Catchy
But Not Crucial.

The guards' coats,
sprinkled with tiny guitars.

Here a screen shows,
for each of us,
where we were, what we were doing,
the first time we heard
particular numbers.
A sign reads
>>KEY IN TITLE>>

And the conversation--
that low melody--
surprising how sorrowful
it often is:

When she left me
it was so bad
I couldn't stand
to even listento the radio

The Hendrix Room
is silent.
Wood benches,
where we sit wondering.