Winged Pianist

Snaps and poetry in spoken word
Smoke from an cigarette in a reverse waterfall motion
The chairs are against the wall
We'll spread our wings
And perch in darkened corners

The pillows smell of old memories
Ash trays are filled to the brim
We sip from glasses filled with assorted remedies
For our illnesses of the day
We fear to wearily travel home
Encased in caged solitude
So we watch the show tonight
Watch him recite rehearsed soliloquy
And speak of familiar sadness


We don't talk much
But casually order another drink
Or ask for another smoke
Wait for the piano player
Because she is my favorite

She provides the background music
But to me she is so much more
She is the spirit, the base, the essence
Of this one roomed place I love

Her hair is lilac, and her eyes are gold
Wings an ice white laced with smoke gray
And her hands float upon striped keys
Sending shivers to my wings

And yet as every  night goes by
I will perch in my smokey corner
Take drags from a cigarette smoked down to the filter
With my scarred, black wings
Tucked under my coat
And I will perch
Listening from afar