I (over)wrote this gloomy little piece when I was 18 years old and just out of high school. It got published in Speakeasy magazine. Most of it makes me cringe now, but I have always really loved the ending. Here it is, and please be merciful.
The empty concert hall--
The podium conducting, the stage performs
A piece of Beethoven's shattered plaster head
In forgotten time.
Ladies and gentlemen--
If it please thee, I sit hangdog on the world's steps.
In the window sobbing three floors above,
Love stands head in hand as
Scores blow crazed past my rubble feet.
And I lay myself open to you, then.
My madness mirror, tender across time and
Believing caressive until it lay sprawled
Six o'clock and real, but so am I...
Though I kneel broken,
The bitter victim of iambic pentameter--
My feeling eyes still journey
My seeing heart still voyages
Until, stumbling on a piece of Beethoven's shattered plaster head,
The air hammer song and banking cosmic goes flying
My God, now they'll never know
Of a street sign in the rain.