Restaurant Pianist

by Aidan Andrew Dun

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With the sense of rhythm
of a leaky tap
in spurts and bursts
drips and tinkles
with the hacking noise
of a chopping-board
he delivers bad tempi
over-seasoned airs
cheesy serenades
from the land of
backing-tracks
stale wonders
nothings made of concrete
flops, culinary accidents
rendered as percussive motifs
cadenzas of mangled Chopin
ruined mazurkas
fragments of Mantovani
grating slush
all spilling out of
ten long crab-like fingers
which scuttle left and right
too efficiently:
higgledy-piggledy music
from the Master.

Look, upon a futile
rostrum he is seated
sacred king in a realm of
bourgeois nonsense:
now he shrugs
in modest self-appraisal
as waiters applaud
to safeguard their jobs
now he squirms with majesty
diffident, half-shrinking
doling-out bland
heroic poses in white:
the serenading monster
of the restaurant.

O please ban
the performing monkey!






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