I Can't Play Guitar

 

They kept handing me guitars.

No matter how many times I told them,

“I don’t know how to play guitar.”

It didn’t matter.

They just handed it to me,

told me to go on stage,

in front of thousands of

people, and said,

“you’ll be fine.”

 

But then, they were right,

I never had to play,

something always happened,

and I got to put the guitar away.

Be it a fire drill,

an unruly fan,

an uninvited guest,

an Earthquake;

I just never had to really play.

 

Which was fine,

because I wasn’t sure how

I got there in the first place,

being told to play guitar on stage,

like a baseball fan called out

of the stands to play third base

because the manager could hear,

how good their commentary was

from the bleachers.

 

I know a few minor bass lines

on a guitar in reality,

but I can’t keep a rhythm,

or the beat. I can’t make repetitive

motions for two minutes without

needing to change.

So playing the guitar, has always been

a big, fat, loud, amp ripping, “NO.”

 

“Here’s your chance kid, get out there any play!”

Another guitar,

handed to me.

 

“Damn it.”