Please, sit with me.
Talk to me of travels far
and scandals now settled.
Load me up on gin,
as you give me
my first piano lesson.

You press elementary chords
with the expertise that appears
to flood, flood in all your motions;
in all commotions of doubt
and in the brilliant glow of hair,
that has so stolen my heart.

Please, bear with me.
Crest of a tolerant smile
as my clumsy fingers fail,
loaded with gin and fear
of all inadequacies,
of all loss of melody.

These deficient hands apologise,
as they ***** in your blessed wake.
Unholy pilgrim (whiskey on the sly),
I temper doubt in suspended life
as you squeeze lime into my shot,
oh, my saint and shaman of poisons.

Please, do remember me.
Recall ease of laughter
and all of the moment's poetry.
We're loaded up on gin,
as I drink for safety,
as I drink for old scars
and as I drink you out,
before the start,
before a career of future hurt

in the fear of love found through Chopin:
an eternal, unsatisfied infatuation.

All this,
as you give me
my first piano lesson.