What Happens Behind The Curtain

Listening to the endless droning,
We’re so bored we have long since gone wacko.
Using his Soprano Sax
Propped on his shoulder like a machine gun,
Taking out the drummers
From across the band,
Dropping like boys playing war games.
The teacher looks up.
They’re sitting innocently in perfect playing position,
Ready to play
At the teacher’s every whim

The teacher looks down at his music,
That’s when the chaos erupted.
Using hand signs, the sax player
Got everyone to turn off their music stand’ lights
He turned on the strobe light
In his cell phone
The party was on

The teacher snapped his head up
Stared at the sax player
Who froze,
Gave a smile,
And a thumbs up
The teacher shook his head
Signed ‘NO’ at him.

This is one mere experience
Of what happens behind the curtain

The Record Player

With the needle on the record
The music starts to play
The popping
The scratching
Adds to the sound.
Makes it sound whole,
Like the Symphony Orchestra playing Stravinsky.

Pink Floyd
Chicago
Van Halen
Don’t sound right with out it.
People think they’re obsolete
They’re old fashioned
I think they’re as cool as the 70’s themselves.

I come home
From a stressful day
Turn on a record
And relax to the sounds of Chicago
Jamming out to ‘25 or 6 to 4’

You can’t help but dance
When you listen to them
They make you ecstatic
What Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious music.

You can’t get that feeling
With a CD
Or an MP3.

Records may not be perfect,
But they’re good enough for me.

The Rink

I step into the rink
A chill hits me
as cold as the arctic tundra.
The bleachers are empty
The only soul in the building
My coach.
Paul Askham,
A British Olympic Athlete.

I sit
Open my skate bag
Revealing my Figure Skates.
With them in hand,
I take the blade covers off
Put my blade guards on.
I slip my skate
On my tights-clad foot.
Using my skate lace pull I synch my skate laces
Starting at the toes of the boot
Methodically moving up
Leaving it a little looser
At the ankle,
I synch the top tight.
I move on to the other skate
Repeating the same process
Having done it so many times
I can’t remember.

I stand up
Bend my knees deep,
Testing the tightness of my skate.
Satisfied
I walk to the boards.
Taking off my blade guards
Setting them on the boards
I step onto the ice
Gliding across,
Stroking,
Skating Crossovers
Around the corners.
The sound of my blades
Cutting into the ice
Fills the rink.
It captivates me.

I start to skate Backwards Crossovers
I step into the circle
And start to spin.
My leg crosses over
My arms tuck in tight,
My Scratch Spin is a work of art.
I step out of the spin gracefully,
Coach Paul claps.
“That was very good,” he says
In his British Accent.
I skate over to him,
And smile.
That was the very first time
I’ve ever executed A perfect Scratch Spin.