FIRST RECITAL

My Aunt Sarah makes sure

I have a chocolate milkshake

at my violin debut

having eaten a croissant

as she fixes the strings

and hairy bow with rosin

tells me not to forget to bow,

it's not easy for a five year old
in white short pants

taking a risk

with ghost of the Lowell, Emerso
Coolidge
and Howell family 

seated on deck chairs and sofas
in the front row

coming out as hosts

at he Commonwealth club's

cotillion in Boston's high society,

where the pilgrims who dance

are now getting high

and the puritans take a chance
to listen to my playing Ives

judging with an aristocratic bent
after making
a charitable contribution
to the musical charity
that my aunt spent years
in helping new immigrants

as a lady with a dog walks by
with an accent of pretending

to just get by.