DORSETT IN NEWARK

I wish I could blame
Turning Mozart’s Ah! Vous
Dirais-je maman variations
Into a botch played by some
Idiot savant (all right, without
The savant) on arthritis,

Parkinson’s, or even Alzheimer’s.
You must have independence
Of hands--Grace, clarity,
Tempo legato expression--
Admit it: your internal clock
Sucks. Have you forgotten,

Mr. Humunculus inside
My skull, that I--that is, we--
Were born of poor parents in,
Of all places, Jersey City?
(Dad would have thought
Lang Lang was a panda)--

Why tell me off for not
Being (a sextogenarian!) prodigy--
There was no music in our house.
There is in mine--so why not
Join neurons (you and joy’s
Center in the amygdala)--

Let us be friends--Who knows
How much pain it took
For me to become average?
After traumas that cannot
Even be mentioned in poems,
I’m lucky to be alive.

Besides, Mozart couldn’t play
A note at my age--
Even Czerny cannot help
One in an unmarked grave.
I’ve outlived Beethoven,
Schubert, Schumann and Brahms--

And tonight I’ve made my debut
In a nursing home where
A given-up man sang along
Who hadn’t sung in years--
Mozart at Versailles? Smile; God
Also needs Dorsetts in Newark.