Piano Man

Why did you let him in; the bastard?
He told you, ‘Goodbye’, so I trust
he’s gone...finally. Heard most of it,
as I would have, in the next room.
Oh, I remember now; he asked
if he could take some of his CDs –
those priceless photos of yours.

Those places you went; Canada, India,
Thailand, on your ‘trip of a lifetime’,
knowing you’d never see them again.
I note you wanted to keep the one
of you and him in that restaurant...
when they played Christmas tunes
in mid-June, and the day after
you had a bad case of Delhi belly...

You gave him most of those
with ‘her’ in; the one whose fare
you paid for out of your pension...
the one he’d groomed to be his wife,
once you’d gone. Unbelievable, you are...
or more likely, barking mad. Difficult –
splitting everything you owned, the house
and all, two ways...

Did I sense a glimmer of a smile
through all those sobs? Wasted years –
that’s how I see it; him still living in
his make-believe, Walter Mitty world
where no one gets terminally sick and,
if they do, even his wife, he fucks off.
Just like now; couldn’t face the strain,
poor sod, and him an ex-nurse too.

Come here; I’ll cheer you up, I always do …
Only...that new flat of yours – no room
to fit me in, of course. I can read your mind
through those pianist’s fingers of yours.
You can’t keep secrets from me. Say,
how about giving us a tune? The theme
from ‘The Piano’, might be nice; sure thing,
you won’t be playing it for him, so
play it for me, and yourself.

Oh, and I never did ask; the one featured
in the film, did it have a pedigree like mine?
Could have been my dad...just think of that –
if, indeed, it was a Blüthner, he quips, tongue
in cheek. Or else, how about a song?
You know how it goes:

‘And the piano, it sounds like a carnivore
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say, “Man, what are you doin’ here?”’

(Piano Man, Billy Joel)