My Poetry: The Pianist

The Pianist

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The wizened pianist plays
old blues standards
beneath a peeling sign
that reads
‘Wonderland Inn’ -
but nobody believes it.
He plays each night
till dawn
for money and company
matching each regret
with whiskey and beer.
He plays soft,
almost silent,
for himself,
and fast

for the hearts
on the dance floor as they
gamble for a kiss,
like broke poker players
who would rather

cheat the dealer
than acknowledge their luck.

A still from Casablanca