To Wolfgang, with love

ran through this obstacle course 

and tripped, of course.

and now

now

here i am, wishing i could kick Mozart 

in the testicles and 

take the beauty he could create

and pass it around like a good little communist.

not enough to go around.

where’s my share of beauty?

i spent it on something trivial 

i’m sure.

maybe if my middle name was 

Amadeus…

but what have i created besides a fusion of

mexican tacos and chinese dumplings?

sure, they tasted good - one might even say damn good -

but ultimately, who freaking cares?

everyone wants to be able to point their finger and  say,

“i made that.  isn’t it beautiful?”

but these days, i seem only able to point toward the sky -  

with the wrong finger.

“look at this.  how’s that for beautiful?”

i suppose if everyone could create beauty

then no one could.

and with that realization, Wolfgang, 

your manhood is safe.

- still looking for mine