by Lee Stern
The way I look at it
is that, there is always a place where we can put our drum
and not have to apologize for putting it there.
Sometimes, if we put it there and it’s raining,
we might be asked to put our name at the top of somebody’s list.
That’s the exception, though,
and if courteous people are involved, it’s really no big deal.
And people don’t realize this,
but if we put our drum where the veranda was supposed to have been installed,
when we begin to play it,
the butterflies in our stomach will start to fly away.
And, like other forms of transportation, we can talk about it all we want-
but nothing will happen-
because the truth is, my friend, that we live in a very futile universe these days.
So if you want my advice, take up the piano.
Leave your drum to the other generations who, if they decide to follow us,
can give us the definition of noise that we always
seemed to obscure for our own selfish purposes.
And place blandishments against so regal they caused us to fall.