just behind the porch,
just behind the ear,
and in her hair, hear
that awful piano tune.
I wish the piano-man were here.
Left with his woman instead,
too kind for unkindly folk.
Take his roses
from smirking shirt pocket
and blow balloons into
the void of his face.
We'll be the ones to entertain you now.
With buckets of water,
and eyes that can't blink
because we were up past 3am
and we sleep in 4 hour increments.
But you wouldn't know that
man,
You slept through both
the Easter hunt
and the phoenix sound.
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