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La Stravaganza (Sogno!)
In my dream I arrive late
for school, one shoe
missing, no shirt,
wearing a bow tie.
The teacher points
her finger and hands
me a violin; the strings
vibrate the belly plate,
smell of freshly varnished teak.
A cat cries, the bow
thrums my neck,
resonates
in the hall. The bell rings,
time for recess. I play
a Vivaldi concerto, a baroque
piece, one against the many
children pushing for a turn
on the see-saw,
the swings of arms
and legs, of moods, a Sonata
form waiting for cadenza.
I am the son of a violinist
who played
at St. Mark's Cathedral.
Because of my asthma, I gave up
being a priest and play
instead a ritornello.
Later on I plan to kiss
that Pietà girl
over by the monkey bars.
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