I’m sidetracked as I pack into boxes
my keys call and I play Claire de Lune
with heartfelt intensity
the for rent sign and ads will go out soon
as I prepare to move away
and still I play
I move from Debussy to Bach and return
seeking new ways to find beauty
I’ll have a grand piano after this
and play for hours, this aging punk rocker
with his love of music in all its forms
I am bewitched by the elegant emotion
a yearning so profound it could make a man weep
in the touch of my fingers on the keys
It will never be what I perform
to half or full drunk audiences in bars and arenas
but it sits in my soul like the face of god
but maybe one day a ghost will hear
as my fingers dance the bergamasque
I’m playing the black keys in my mind
Keys
