Recital

A vandal broke into the high school
orchestra room after dark
at the end of the semester.
Whoever it was left only splinters
and coils of metal cord
scattered around the chamber.
A few crushed beer cans also
stood among the wreckage
surprising none of the police
or shaken faculty.

With every instrument smashed
the damage cost well over
thirty thousand, but a couple
bake sales put on by old women
wearing flowers on their dresses
brought back most of it.

The town never found its closure
since the students all stood silent
or in reality just plainly did not know.
Every brick building in this world
contains a secret or a mystery,
cloudy much like alcohol and ice
all swirled together.
I do not mind that from my place here
on this hill where my house
overlooks the town,
and I still always find the time
to dig out my old violin and practice.