grand dame, center stage, cool lighting
the kapellmeiester flips his tails
like a fish.
in earnest hesitation,
hand clutching the box railing.
there she is:
mystery and magic,
nothing but music,
your own mother
your own mother.
you recall watching the ball
during fall, in that hall.
the lighting dimmed,
save for the twinkling stage,
you sat in his lap, barely five years of
two years later you stand in the doorway
and father is nowhere to be found.
there are three different types of ice cream in
the kind that you devour
the kind that brings back memories
the kind that is all sugar and cream.
in salzburg there are no people
empty coffee cups.
people in little glass windows and
trying to get out.
“it’s exiting to think about
what people will use
to tie their shoelaces with
in 28 years,
or if they will tie up their laces at all,”
after the credits to ‘back to the future’ roll,
“or, will my life begin
when i prop myself up at the apron,
my feet dangling near the woodwinds,
as i peer down to see the conductor
giving me one of his grins?”
Copyright 2016 Golden Star Poetry