FINGERS FALL ON KEYS AND THEN ON ME

Let it be said: I seek the muse and pray she is in love with me.-- Tracy Greenlee

At any rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. -:-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Fingers Fall on Keys and Then on Me

Long, bony fingers play sideways
pounding fear into white keys,
soft black keys speak seduction,
notes flowing mysteriously,
eerily different to me,
melodies pushing into me,
coaxing me to fix love.
It will break your heart, if you still have one

A wooden piano bench supports a
black cotton shirt, a second skin to
a composer’s curling shoulders,
slowly the piano player is
slipping into the metronome of self.
It will break your heart, if you still have one.

Your tune of truth, reversing rest,
your neck bows, lips part, time flows,
words ribbon, foot drums, eyes glazed,
and your fingers and back and soul
evolve into a broken love song.
It will break your heart, if you still have one.

You are possessed by the song;
you are solitary in the stone room.
Your solo spotlight is burning, rearranging
over and over again as your psyche plays.
You flip the music sheets like years,
you play rhythms to suit your moods.
It will break your heart, if you still have one.

And my Halcyon days sway in and out,
inside love and contemplation and still I wait,
until you try and hearken back to another time.
It will break your heart, if you still have one.
When you try and find me,
it will bring you heart, if you still want one.