"Sabotage"

No, it isn't the vertigo-inducing
   specter of wholesale theft, or
The fear of certain public humiliation, or
   the scary stories that your Grandfather told you
   while you played with toys.

No, it is more like the subtle creaking of old bathroom pipes
   warning you of an eventual flood,
The uncertain presence of a spider in your bed, or
   minute surcharges adding up on your credit card.

Yes, that certain musical partner will no more
   acknowledge their steady stream
   of broken promises
   and covert comments
Than a spider would confess to the web over your bed.

Only in hazy reflection do their actions and speech
   reveal the uncomfortable realization
   of their Sabotage,
Like being energetically pickpocketed
   and then insincerely reimbursed,
Endeavoring to mislead your innate knowingness
   with their artistic competence and obvious talent
   that sweep through the walls of concert halls
   and hearts
   desperate for Solace.

Only after you have experienced enough varieties of
   musical deception will you show
   your wisdom,
And recognize Sabotage in your midst . . .

     

 

October 2022

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©2022, Michael Smolens