A Race of My Own

by Stanley Boyson

I sit here waiting for your next command
G-sharp, F-major, B-minor...change to the key
of E. I hit each chord with precission...you smile, I donít.

We play a duet...the progressions are
difficult and complex yet I keep pace.
You have a prodigy now who can finish what
you started...you want me to believe, I wont.

My hands ache, its been two hours since we
started and I gotta pee real bad. You ease up,
take another swigg and beckon me to go. You
takin too much time in there boy, get back in here.

Practice resumes, I play a Wes Montgomerey
riff. You say "damn boy you tryin to get good
on me?" "thatís the kinda music I want. I
oblige you with more, but only out of fear.

The bottle's half empty now and you seem a
little high. I tell you what I learned last
week in my science class. You pay no
attention... instead we dive into some Coltrane.

You say only the great can play with the
greatest, and break into a riff that should
have been recorded. Inside you compare your-
self to them, and use me to channel your pain.

You could be one of the best, you can finish
what I started, he says. The bottle is almost
empty...he's drifting off to sleep now. Pop
slipped along the way and wont try it alone.

He looks at me with tears in his eyes and
says, "so you want to be a scientist?"
Wisdom overcomes selfishness as you
realize... I have a race of my own.

A Race of My Own by Stanley Boyson

© Copyright 1994. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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