Minstrel In The Gallery

The minstrel in the gallery looked down upon the

Smiling faces.

He met the gazes --- observed the spaces between the

Old men's cackle.

He brewed a song of love and hatred --- oblique

Suggestions --- and he waited.

He polarized the pumpkin-eaters --- static-humming

Panel-beaters --- freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters

(salaried and collar-scrubbing).

He titillated men-of-action --- belly warming, hands

Still rubbing on the parts they never mention.

He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating

One-line jokers --- t.v. documentary makers

(overfed and undertakers).

Sunday paper backgammon players --- family-scarred

And women-haters.

Then he called the band down to the stage and he

Looked at all the friends he'd made.

The minstrel in the gallery looked down on the

Rabbit-run.

And threw away his looking-glass - saw his face in

Everyone.


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