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The Nervous Lil' Bard
Asswipe
18 Mar 2004
The boy sits alone in a hallway.
He twists a golden Alto Saxophone in his lap
and watches a patch of yellow light
Dance across a row of maroon lockers.
He listens to a muffled Clarinet
Bouncing through the crack under the door,
Rushing to finish Minuet
And Dance of the Blessed Spirits.
The soft notes stop playing.
The boy's heart begins to race.
Blood softly, rhythmically beating,
Explodes to a pulsing Fortissimo.
He looks down at trembling hands.
The creases of his palms shining;
The lines filled with fresh sweat.
The door opens.
A girl comes out
And walks quickly away.
An old man exits after that
and smiles down at the boy,
"Hello. Are you next?"
The boy's mouth hangs open;
He tries to respond.
But words stick in his parched throat;
Naked bodies trying to ride
on a dry waterslide.
"Don't be nervous, I'll only bite if you stink."
He says, chuckling.
The boy stands up.
His hand clenches a blue folder,
His instrument hanging from his neck.
He follows the man into the room.
dum dum
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