Maestro
I slip in unobtrusively
and take a seat in back,
the orchestra is tuning up,
I open up my pack
and take a rolled up magazine
with which to play along,
conducting is a passion
I have had since I was young.
The brass, the woodwinds and the strings,
the tympani and all,
play scattered notes and splattered tones
until the maestro's call.
The program is Stravinsky's 'Rite,'
an overture by Brahms,
and there am I gesticulating
wildly with my arms!
A cello player noticed me
and signalled to the Man,
"Come, make music! Step on down
and join this merry band!"
the maestro cried in strident tones,
then summoned me on stage,
with great excitement I obeyed,
as he turned back the page.
"From the beginning!" he enjoined,
and handed me the stick,
I tapped the podium and stared,
I started feeling sick!
But then the downbeat... hell broke loose!
the orchestra responded,
Damn! I guess I nailed the Brahms,
how glorious it sounded!
It was then that I awoke,
my closet was a tip,
I stood in my tuxedo
with a poker in my grip!
The famed Chicago Symphony
with Solti in the lead,
how graciously he'd chosen me,
what better dream indeed!
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