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Kissed her ivory hips
as if I was tickling the black keys
of a piano.
They’re the odd ones
you say
but so are we.
Giggling through the howls
of a Tom Waits song as if
we’re in on it too.
After tinkering with keys
you’ve got nothing left to play.
So douse the piano in gasoline.
Flame licked legs and dripping veneer.
Snapped strings in and out of tune.
Every piano fire burns this way.
Every piano fire ends this way.
The explosion
The confusion of the fog
of the fire extinguisher.
Grit teeth and white heat.
The piano is broken,
but we’ll get another one.
