The Place To Be
is a room somewhere on the coast
away from what’s been done
your hand resting lightly
on the edge of a good piano
when the doors thrust in
you’ll drop down a tunnel
through the floor to the street;
then you’ll be among us.
A lute player will rise from an alley
and begin to follow but
run him off after a time
for our many roomed song
will fill you.
It’s there inside our noisy house
that you’ll want to be.
At a cafe later that afternoon
as the waiter slides past
keep your head under hat
we’ll approach from the wings
and all that has been done
will ring through you
until you sing
what we’ve told you to sing
as you must - we must
as you follow - we join
and we may be thrown together
from said café.
Later that night
up into the nothingness you’ll return
perhaps gazing back once
at some old shadow
with his hand on a piano.
That’s fine you’ll muse
then the moment will return
but you’ll be gone.