Oboe-Land
Or
The Confessions of a Sophomore Bandie
-
I use mallets sometimes,
Though I'm not in Pit.
I feel the beat and –
"Tag, you're it!"
The freshman shouts
Out loud to me –
In Oboe-Land,
I dream. I see –
The reed is wet;
Slides into place.
I like the feel,
But love the taste
Of sweet revenge –
A rival down:
He quits band in shame,
But there's no frown.
I'm glaring at
The sixteenth notes
Upon the music
Chopin wrote –
I look at them,
They laugh at me –
I struggle to play
Their melody…
I've entered the castle
And saved the dragon –
While I'm at it,
I'll slay the maiden.
I'm out of tune –
Oh, sorry, my bad.
Some days I swear
I'm going mad…
Some wonder about
An oboists' brain,
But they don't understand
That we're
All
In
Sane!
