Please Play

Please play, sir.

We like the way your hand skates

and your chin almost takes of residence on the keys.

It is as though the piano is talking to you;

you are certainly talking to it.

Isn’t it funny, that your voice is so rough

but your hands are soft, like your words.

All tenderness and insight, a bit of the pavement

in the lounge, if you know what we mean.

And you do, sir. You do.

We hear it. We feel it. Sometimes our skin

tightens. Just enough to make us think

you can read our minds.

5 thoughts on “Please Play

  1. Ah, I spotted Mr. Waits but missed the Monk, love these recent pieces of yours John, as if the you’re standing at just the right distance from the subject to snap them in entirety, yet close enough to see the wrinkles.

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