you found me
in a second hand store
on Lincoln Avenue
you bought me
for nine dollars and tax because
you thought I was a mandolin
you told Tryone, the clerk
who would sell me into slavery, your
wife always wanted one
you took me home to your
twelfth story apartment; I discovered
your wife was gone many years
but her photo on the living
room wall got to see me, and hear
your lament:
you wished you would have
found me seasons sooner--but my
strings were rusted even then
my last song played at a bar mitzvah
before your hair turned white, before
your wife's many colored regrets
you played me but once and didn't
like what I had to say--you tossed me
from your balcony to the street
I made the same flight your wife did,
landed in the same spot; yes, I suspect she was
more a disappointed music lover than you
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
you found me
in a second hand store
on Lincoln Avenue
you bought me
for nine dollars and tax because
you thought I was a mandolin
you told Tryone, the clerk
who would sell me into slavery, your
wife always wanted one
you took me home to your
twelfth story apartment; I discovered
your wife was gone many years
but her photo on the living
room wall got to see me, and hear
your lament:
you wished you would have
found me seasons sooner--but my
strings were rusted even then
my last song played at a bar mitzvah
before your hair turned white, before
your wife's many colored regrets
you played me but once and didn't
like what I had to say--you tossed me
from your balcony to the street
I made the same flight your wife did,
landed in the same spot; yes, I suspect she was
more a disappointed music lover than you
Thanks Lora Lee for your poem that made me look up oud.
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