A nighttime in Boston

I had plenty of time before the performance

of Sofia Gubaidulina's "Offertorium" –– 

so I drove northbound on Massachusetts Avenue

toward its bridge spanning the river, but stopped short of crossing it.

I wanted to park for awhile on the banks of the Charles

overlooking Cambridge where Harvard and M.I.T. are seated.

From my sightline, Harvard, sitting northwest along the river

was set too deeply into the landscape to be seen clearly,

but M.I.T., up-front and imposing seemed to be staring me down,

curious as to what business a working-class guy like myself

would have in the "Athens of America".

I argued that although I was born and raised in the "Armpit of America"

to the south, I had as much a right to be in Boston as anyone.

After all, I just wanted to look, not being interested in touching anything

or engaging in a futile attempt at confronting the complexities of its crazy equations.

Later, I found the performance at Symphony Hall to be first rate and although

my earlier confrontation with M.I.T. remained unresolved, I had my hands full

confronting the complexities of Sofia Gubaidulina's "Offertorium."