Chaos in the Brass Section
M. Comartin grimaces from
the side of his mouth
The string scherzo ends at
just the wrong moment
(stifled giggles ripple up
and down the rows)
-he gestures a bit stiffly,
turning a shade of green
I note a slight drag distressing
the second movement
causing the conductor’s eyebrow
to elevate
I see this as if a drawing,
a police artist’s sketch
My embouchure starts to
degrade, my lips rubberize
Faithful season subscribers
shift in their plush seats
Hm, I think, this score sure looks
blurry
Now the woodwinds go sour
and slightly out of time
Well, I might as well
improvise – this won’t sound bad
The Maestro looks
distressed, twitches, grits his teeth
The other brasses sputter
and splay erratically
Catcalls from the balcony
and grumbles rumble throughout
I start to freewheel emote, chasing
the woodwinds
My mind wanders to a funny
un-funny middle school concert
Now I think: Where the heck was I? I’ll drop in HERE!
But something is out of
whack, we’re in different modes
-I’m looking forward to that
after party at Jeannette’s
Pursuing the wayward strings,
we blunder into novel spaces
Haphazardly it segues into a
long, droning crescendo
It’s FUBAR: the audience is
yelling and throwing things
Suddenly I’m in a full-tilt
white tie riot- What a feeling!
Inferno Red Faced, M. Comartin
issues steam jets from his ears
The orchestra is bolting prematurely, not taking bows
Eyes like wild horses, my
fellow artists are fleeing in panic
Patrons, clutching jewels
and canes, rush the shocked stage
I shout, The greatest
season finale in company history!
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