I AM A LITTLE PIANOLA by Dennis Doph

because why? 25

I am a little pianola
Banished long ago to the lumber room
Dust has covered my crazed ziggurat of keys
Once I was an instrument of considerable bloom
Men of all stripes stroked me (and stroked me;
and stroked dose and dese)
I thought their ministrations droll
As they tried to play their mysterious barcarole
One by one they stood in line to choke themselves
On my own prodigious piano roll

It seems only yesterday
My boss notorious Greg Moodmar of exalted fame
Sent me (in my innocence) to gag the superstar
Whose excellence was significant in our game
When Mister Teeth sat thigh to thigh with me
In that eleventh-floor screening room which sealed my fate
Mister Teeth placed his famous choppers
In his bag of tricks which contained some other whoppers
While his lousy movie ran and ran we did some poppers
Only then did I perceive:
I'm more than just another date!

So Mister Teeth gummed me into sexual stardom
All of which both of us thought mighty fine
Then passed me on to his fuckbud Rolandito
Who was nine or ten serious notches up the line
Rolandito used me (used me; used me)
In ways of which I'd never before heard
In Wagner I might have sung the Forest Bird
Screeching my countertenor way though melody
to a diminished third
Teeth and Rolandito banged me
mercilessly doubleganged me
Then I knew what I had become
was just another dirty word

Somehow I managed to extricate myself
Into the deranged world of Allan Cramm
Who shook his tousled brunet locks at me
Pouted how he did not give a damn
Told me of the rich English Sloane Ranger
he planned to marry
Though she's ingenuously manged to "miscarry"
All of Cramm's sperm shoots from Hercules to Harry
In all these bizarre games I was the sensuous stroller
Winging it up Cramm Alley a dicey roller
Being Allan Cramm's infamous little pianola
It was so complexual being metrosexual

So this little pianola morphed
Into a wonder-world of Push and Shove
But! Wonder of Wonders! While all of this
was improbably going on
I managed to find something resembling love
My blue-eyed boy relaxed into something
to agonize the Gods
Teeth and Rolandito and Cramm
and all those other sods
Had to reflect that against all odds
Their little pianola who was so bespoken
was broken

So we have rolled our banged-up old pianna
Over miles and miles of whacked-out sexual plain
Ranging through Sargasso and savanna
Oblivious; impossible to explain
Teeth died of a raging headache otherwise known
as his wife
Rolandito kept polishing his infamous eleven inches
Into the place where it invariably pinches
They buried Rolandito on the Monday dock
On Tuesday and Wednesday they put away his cock
Cramm kept on getting Crammed all his fucking life
And every AM I look into those same blue eyes
And know it doesn't matter if I wane or wax
Because Blue Eyes knows how to play me between the cracks
So:
Check out some other broken-down pianola!
Make tracks!