AT FIVE

At five years old arriving
at the Boston music school
without a formal invitation
while outside
Commonwealth Avenue
other fellows and gals
are playing touch football
to keep
November's athletics alive
others are conducting
to prepare and survive
an audition
students are doing addition
and multiplication tables
I'm able to figure out
how to play this triangle
a tiny instrumental ploy
for the Haydn "Toy" Symphony,
and trying out
the lyrical cello
timpani and percussion,
helping get out a free edition
of an orchestral chapter
in an appreciation course
in the knowledge
at sight reading
amid solfeggio
and hidden harmony
of the piano
with my dispassionate
uncle and aunt
teaching us
amid the fashionable
school hallways
by overhearing
a critic's discussion
and always being au courant.