Wednesday, June 25, 2014

5514. THE CRAZY ORGAN GRINDER MONKEY GUY

THE 
CRAZY ORGAN GRINDER 
MONKEY GUY
Sometimes at sunset the man with the monkey
comes playing his music in the streets below :
children laugh and mothers smile : things of 
the moment stop still for good cheer. I don't
know why  -  I always took it as sad, a music
both dark and profound. It was 1924, and
I still remember being there : Aldo Cavalcanti,
the name I went by then. Previous incarnations,
like my father and his kin.
-
I thought I'd forget it all but now I remember everything.
The grave of Lilly Omadoro, all those lilacs, and
the horse, pulling her glass-front wagon, the
funeral hearse. Gates of Heaven, on Gun Hill
Road, in the Bronx? Memory fails precision,
yet that's what I recall. A sadness too.
The hundred trees were thick with green as we
all slowly returned home. A Prince Street tenement,
and no one talking. The music guy came by
unknowingly  -  I gave him a dime to go away.
He almost cried for his mistake. 'I'm a'so sorry,
I did'na know this, I'm a'sorry again.' And
he left. The language was funny, but I
understood. He was gone, and we
all stayed sad.

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