When I was a child I was beguiled
By the nimble way
Older kids' double-jointed fingers
Danced up and down piano keys
Like circus acrobats doing flips.
They made playing the piano look easy,
Like turning on a tap
And then waiting for the music to gush out.
Not so. When I began taking lessons
I was a pride-shy restless little fraud
Who hardly ever practiced,
My tiny paws bamboozled
By their inability to coax a melody
Out of our upright piano
Even though they knew
How to shuffle cards
With absurd dexterity.
My imitation of a dedicated student
Never fooled my teacher.
She sensed I felt
A strong commitment
To being anywhere
But where I was.
Stiff as porcupine quills
My fingers spoke in tongues
As they jaywalked
Up and down the scales.
Worse still,
Instead of illuminating the sky
With moonlight sonatas
They cast a lunar eclipse
Over Claire De Lune.
Once a week for years
My teacher cheered me on
Through gritted-teeth,
Guessing perhaps that my thoughts
Were preoccupied
With knock-knock jokes
And how absolutely giddy I felt
When my lessons were finally over.
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