maestro
i
lay there
listen
to beethoven’s
egmont
overture
with
the aches and pain
of
everything
plus
existence
the
end result
of
drinking every last bit of booze
in
the place
save
the drop of amaretto
left
over from christmas
think
this
is death
or a
bad hangover maybe
a
real dandy
coming
on
for
the first time in months
but
at least this isn’t boredom
it’s
more like making art
i
guess
conducting
my own orchestra
of
the damned
the
way men construct buildings
and
ugly people in ugly cars
race
toward
another
fruitless day
a
construct of their blind optimism
i
lay there
all
red eyes
and
sloppy contentment
as
beethoven ends
and
the audience roars
then
i rise like a maestro
to
take a bow
my
back knotted
my
legs like jelly
only
i head for
the
bathroom to vomit
instead
of
facing the adoring
crowd.
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