Nov 20, 2006 20:33
Harpsichord
What is that like
They ask,
Playing the harpsichord--
And I say it’s “tinny”
Like rain on warehouse rooftops.
It’s metallic
Like that taste in your mouth.
(I’ve assembled musicians in a room.
They’re all the might-have-beens,
The were-nots,
The would-have-loved-you-betters
Who have written songs for me.
Some songs are about
How lovely I am--
Others,
How stubborn.
None were composed for harpsichord.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never tried them out.
They’re looking at each other,
Perplexed--
Not knowing what I mean
By “tinny.”)
Like metal! I say,
Like shine. Like luster.
Cheerful.
Like spelunking, and
Hitting your head
On something that clangs
Because your head
Is not soft either--
Tapping a ring
On the smooth countertops
Of your ears,
Over and over again.
© 2006 RLP