[Martin Elster]

This is not a funny one, but ...

Dialogue With an Old Acquaintance

A photo of the way I used to be
sits on a shelf and often talks to me.
He peers across the dusty glass to say,
“Remember how I’d practice tirelessly,

learning piece after piece? And then I’d play
for mom and dad and brother, sis, aunt Kay.
“I do. They thought you had some talent.” “Yes,”
the picture says, “but I felt like the prey

of some great raptor when, in formal dress,
I’d get on stage. I couldn’t bear the stress
of all those eyes and ears. How they would peer
into my core of jelly!” “What a mess

you were!” I say, “fear ruined your career.”
And then I walk away. Year after year
he endlessly complains through the veneer,
his gripes like dulcet airs to my old ear.