Manic Dreamscape Matinee

Tightrope

strung too high

above a reckless

orchestra, can’t

find a downbeat:

conductor’s

lost her

ictus, and the

soprano’s slipped off

the descant

stumbling drunken

dotted rhythms

in stepwise

motion just

short of lilting

glissando.

Concertmaster’ll break

a string to

catch the pitch

carry a well-chewed

tune. Good boy.

Don’t

miss the entrance

or you’ll tumble,

ritornello

to double bars and

slide straight down a

spit-slick trombone

tuner. Wouldn’t

even mind if Ms.

Grey-Eyed

French Horn

would sneak a

wink, but

we’ll get no

Picardy third

tonight, just

minor keys

and fully-diminished

encores.