The piano bench is harder tonight.
But she's there, ankles crossed,
her skirt riding slightly up over her knee,
and I follow the line of her leg down to the strap of her heel.
She looks up from her gin and tonic --
I can breathe again.
This is our handshake,
as reliable as the swinging lantern of a lighthouse.
I have my bearings;
I slide over the keys.
This one is her favorite,
her toe tapping along.
One night I said,
you were the inspiration.
She just closed one eye and looked at me from the side of the other.
She might've smiled.
Can't recall.
This one is her favorite.
She always stops drinking and
puts her glass down to listen.
If you sat next to her,
you might hear her hum.
She uncrosses her ankles.
This one is her favorite.
One table to the left,
one table back.
Her French twist -- I remember that's what it's called -- lies cradling her head.
Her lipstick is thinner.
Third chorus and she stands,
and as she leaves I see the
seams of her stockings
are crooked.
Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 2:47 PM UTC
The piano bench is harder tonight.
But she's there, ankles crossed,
her skirt riding slightly up over her knee,
and I follow the line of her leg down to the strap of her heel.
She looks up from her gin and tonic --
I can breathe again.
This is our handshake,
as reliable as the swinging lantern of a lighthouse.
I have my bearings;
I slide over the keys.
This one is her favorite,
her toe tapping along.
One night I said,
you were the inspiration.
She just closed one eye and looked at me from the side of the other.
She might've smiled.
Can't recall.
This one is her favorite.
She always stops drinking and
puts her glass down to listen.
If you sat next to her,
you might hear her hum.
She uncrosses her ankles.
This one is her favorite.
One table to the left,
one table back.
Her French twist -- I remember that's what it's called -- lies cradling her head.
Her lipstick is thinner.
Third chorus and she stands,
and as she leaves I see the
seams of her stockings
are crooked.