A Djinn left them on my trash pile
During Unlimited Pickup Day
Some musical instruments
Will never be beloved
Why the odd man out?
Sometimes Ricky would hold four
But that fifth one has to be some kind
Of joke, or man’s inhumanity to maracas.

Shaken, not stirred, on the beat, or twice the beat
Or half the beat, if a soul-stirring ballad.
As with most musical instruments
There are no straight lines,
just curves,  bright enamel
So why throw them away, and
With someone else’s accumulating trash?
The Djinn says, “Look what you throw away now!”