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No Bigger Than a Baritone Horn - Part Ii

Minimal involvement with extracurricular activity at Methacton
   limited to playing Baritone Horny within the band
   though marginal interest existed to maintain constancy 
feigning noteworthy interest second to none
   eventually Mister O'Donnell 
   (I remember without mental exertion - surmising that tubby name 
   of bandleader) synonymous with attitude ill suited, 
   thus loss being banned haint grand
 loss, and subsequent loss did not stun, 
   nor disheartenment arose to forego hearing 
   future applauding hand, or standing ovation
and felt reprieve, relieve, when refused further sharing of any awards won
   yet the greatest joy arose to even the score for decision 
   foisted upon me to play Baritone Horn now a choice I manned
in tandem with with late afternoon rehearsals 
   necessitating this boy not much bigger than the baritone horn
   to make a mad dash with truckload of academic material 
   plus encased “mini tuba,” which constantly banged upper right thigh,
   and nearly tripped me to go flailing head over heals.

Exhaustion (a welcome relief with sprinting the distance – 
possibly even setting a world record) getting linkedin 
(half heartedly envisioning myself whizzing 
across the mountains viz tour de France
measuring a winning distance – quite an expanse
whereby giving the strong armed cyclist brandishing his lance
a run...er rather pedal for his money, 
   yet this flight of fancy fragile as a séance
vanished without a trace, although this trance
figurative shifted gears burnishing via sans deus sol invictus
   and didst witness glory, where ignominy, humility, and  disharmony
Mister McDonald (supposed namesake) from looming maestro, 
   whose countenance evinced 
   countless cartoonish, distorted expressive facial grotesqueries 
   earning apropos sobriquets
   who jabbed the air with each illusory add vance.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things