it was just a lone piano splling jazz into across our kitchen over leftover eggs and bagel crumbs, it has played before, this piano, from a neighbor's apartment, but we don't know him, or her, we haven't seen anyone who could play with such quiet abandon, and yet, in the night or on half-sunny afternoons, that lone piano dribbles in, and when it suddenly stops, the silence holds no solace.
Posted by Rebecca at January 11, 2003 02:05 PM in five-minute poems