where is Art?

where is Art*
*short for ‘Arthur’

Classical Guitar on a dark background.

where
is Art who
played the guitar
so late in the night
until told to give
it a rest or simply
‘shutup’
did he stow
it in the case
a tired evening
leave it discreetly
in the flat before
leaving to never
come back turning
to take on the
workaday world
accounts monies in
cards forgotten about
worries more than
the papers across his
desk a wife the kids
he loves to bits
the mistress on
the shag carpet pile
deep as her nails
and he wakes in a
cold sweat nights
thinking about that
guitar just one note
on it if still in one
piece in someone’s
hands could bring
him out of all this
turn him penniless
back into himself
where
is Art who played
the guitar so very
late in the night?
did he make it
in the world of song
and worked those
long evenings for his
own good smooth and
hot as good whiskey
earning enough of
silver, enough of sounds
to pose on his own
mantelpiece the musician
in the frame with that
band this band the
tours the bad roads
the crazy groupies
behind the ranchslider
curtain before they
fell drunkenly into
the midnight pool
Art who played
the guitar quietly
loud in the night
has he found religion
now and thanks god
for small and large
mercies the whatever
he’s got being more
than ever expected and
he’s only to be thankful
for it and the lord takes
care of the rest
as long as he strokes
that guitar a little
before choir practice
where is Art who
wrung his sorrows out
on the neck of that
guitar? did he make
it there in one piece
that place where most
of us got to, precisely
here, this place,
where you just
have room enough
to look back
and ask where
everyone
got
to.

september 2013

Copyright © 2013 Peter Le Baige. All Rights Reserved

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