I am no great lover of the accordian.
If you forced me to sum up my feelings about the thing
into just one word
I’d probably settle
I was therefore surprised
to find that the thing
is actually quite a symbol
of Life Itself.
Have you ever noticed
how isolated elements of life can feel so familiar
when taken one by one?
thrown together, taken as a whole.
They just feel so strange.
I am not surprised by the existence of war
or my daughter’s sweet kisses.
I am not surprised by the smell of patchoulli
or the flavour of success…
Until I think about the fact
that they all inhabit the world together.
And the humble accordion.
A Frankenstien’s monster of a thing.
A keyboard torn from a piano and turned on its side.
thrown onto a bellows of a blacksmith.
and some buttons thrown on the other side for good measure
wielded by the sort-of kid
they put a “kick-me” sign on the back of
in movies set in the 1950’s.
Who would concoct such a thing?
The notes themselves
if you just listened to one or two
these would be in explicable
except for the clear assertion that they are not music.
If you chose a moment, two moments
out of my life.
They, too, would be inexplicable
except for the fact that they are not music.
When you string those notes together, though
sometimes it is still not music.
But other times?
other times, it is.
There are times that the accordion is stretched out so wide
that I think it is has expanded to fill up the size of the world.
And there are times at that is compressed so small
I wonder if it would fit in the back pocket
of somebody’s lederhosen.