prelude:: air
prelude:: air
February 16, 2008. 11:27 pm
the couch and the piano
Lovers // Only a gauzy curtain
Between. Them.
Window to the world
Outside hues of
green and brown
wood on the piano
colour of the sofa
jealousy //
one could play music
other was hugged
they could not touch
but they sat together
by the window
waiting
/the piano only played
when someone sat
on the bench
/couch only spoke
when no one
was near
him
He did not ask her to play
to embarrassed to ask
to hear the music she loved
and not someone else's mistakes
she wished she could be hugged
to be warm, social, soft
stretch her fingers and embrace him
snuggle into the cushions
Love me, he asked the piano
Play something for me.
touch your keys
press the pedal
nevermind the music
waiting on the wooden chair
play something you can hear
that they can't
What do you know about music, she replied
acid on her tongue
tones of brass, struck
a chord in him
and he wished to touch her
hold her hand
tell her she was more
than a piece of furniture
.....what shall become to him? he wonders
couches only last for a time
they are not like pianos
they serve their purpose
discarded when their colours fade
when tears and stuffing start to show
when children spill orange juice
with careless hands
with all the haughtiness and pride
of a musical instrument //
she turns her back on the couch
tucks in her bench
and stares at the closed music books
all he can do is turn his head and
look out the window //
at the children riding their bikes downhill
the fathers walking dogs
teenage daughters listening to their own music
humming in their heads
the vents blow warm air into the
living room, blow air
making the curtain sway
dancing to no one
flowing into the window
kissing the glass pane
..... i wish i could turn around, she speaks
move my body and play music for you
open my strings and flow
like the curtain at the window
notes like kisses
bars like ladders
one hand over the other
paddling their way softly
an ocean of silent waves
to your shore,
..........like a shipwrecked survivor
..........yearning for land.
Their owners return, the doorbell rings
and a boy and girl rush into the living room
a white dress, a ribbon in her hair
sits on the couch, opens a book and reads
she turns her neck and pushes the curtain back
pushing more of the dreamy sunlight in
the younger boy wiggles on the bench
dimpled legs dangling above the floor
turns a page
and presses a note in the wrong key
daylight passes and the afternoon stays
the sun goes down behind the mountains
and the street is misty with spring rain
the window pane dribbles with water
*
And she enters, dresses in an evening gown
kids are downstairs, watching television
waiting for the saturday cartoons to start
he appears in a tuxedo, fumbling with his wallet
do you have the tickets? he asks
it's in my purse, don't forget the address, she adds
you look lovely in that dress
a rare night out, going to the opera
sitting in a box, watching from above
Exhilarated, her black curls bouncing
think of the music, a private box; how exciting
thank god your sister recommended this
it has been too long
thirty minutes before they should leave
waiting for the iced chandelier lights
and the red velvet of the plush chairs
Why don't you play something, he says,
In the meantime, i love to hear
you play, like the old days
when you were in college and
I was a business student
- a business student who talked
too loudly, she protested
..........didn't know how to stop
..........reciting returns and taxes
curiously appeared when she started
fiddling on the piano, lightly touching keys
no time to make music, grad studies
work, clocks, buses, marriage
kids, moving out, buy a house
kindergarten, reading, soccer
..........art
..........karate, school
music lessons
"I want them to know how to play the piano."
Let's buy a new couch to match the house.
old. new.
fresh beginnings, fragrant as spring rain
old memories like yellowed, brittle music pieces
greens and browns
smell of dust in the air
mud tracked through the kitchen floor
your daughter practicing her scales
concentration on her brow
writing her mock theory exams, her legs
propped up on the couch
your son growing up on music
his play pen in the middle of the living room
standing up when his father closed the newspaper
padded over to the piano
lifted the dark mahogany cover
and pressed a key
wishing he could play
i love you, the piano said to the couch
i have always loved you, she pours
her heart out like a string
blowing into the air
written notes of declaration
across the thick beige carpet
past the gauzy curtain
to land on the seat of the couch
I cannot touch you, but I can see
..........hear, speak to you
..........tell you what i hear
share what i might happen to feel
two pieces of furniture
in the same room
in the same house
sharing the same love.
* * *
February 16, 2008. 11:27 pm
the couch and the piano
Lovers // Only a gauzy curtain
Between. Them.
Window to the world
Outside hues of
green and brown
wood on the piano
colour of the sofa
jealousy //
one could play music
other was hugged
they could not touch
but they sat together
by the window
waiting
/the piano only played
when someone sat
on the bench
/couch only spoke
when no one
was near
him
He did not ask her to play
to embarrassed to ask
to hear the music she loved
and not someone else's mistakes
she wished she could be hugged
to be warm, social, soft
stretch her fingers and embrace him
snuggle into the cushions
Love me, he asked the piano
Play something for me.
touch your keys
press the pedal
nevermind the music
waiting on the wooden chair
play something you can hear
that they can't
What do you know about music, she replied
acid on her tongue
tones of brass, struck
a chord in him
and he wished to touch her
hold her hand
tell her she was more
than a piece of furniture
.....what shall become to him? he wonders
couches only last for a time
they are not like pianos
they serve their purpose
discarded when their colours fade
when tears and stuffing start to show
when children spill orange juice
with careless hands
with all the haughtiness and pride
of a musical instrument //
she turns her back on the couch
tucks in her bench
and stares at the closed music books
all he can do is turn his head and
look out the window //
at the children riding their bikes downhill
the fathers walking dogs
teenage daughters listening to their own music
humming in their heads
the vents blow warm air into the
living room, blow air
making the curtain sway
dancing to no one
flowing into the window
kissing the glass pane
..... i wish i could turn around, she speaks
move my body and play music for you
open my strings and flow
like the curtain at the window
notes like kisses
bars like ladders
one hand over the other
paddling their way softly
an ocean of silent waves
to your shore,
..........like a shipwrecked survivor
..........yearning for land.
Their owners return, the doorbell rings
and a boy and girl rush into the living room
a white dress, a ribbon in her hair
sits on the couch, opens a book and reads
she turns her neck and pushes the curtain back
pushing more of the dreamy sunlight in
the younger boy wiggles on the bench
dimpled legs dangling above the floor
turns a page
and presses a note in the wrong key
daylight passes and the afternoon stays
the sun goes down behind the mountains
and the street is misty with spring rain
the window pane dribbles with water
*
And she enters, dresses in an evening gown
kids are downstairs, watching television
waiting for the saturday cartoons to start
he appears in a tuxedo, fumbling with his wallet
do you have the tickets? he asks
it's in my purse, don't forget the address, she adds
you look lovely in that dress
a rare night out, going to the opera
sitting in a box, watching from above
Exhilarated, her black curls bouncing
think of the music, a private box; how exciting
thank god your sister recommended this
it has been too long
thirty minutes before they should leave
waiting for the iced chandelier lights
and the red velvet of the plush chairs
Why don't you play something, he says,
In the meantime, i love to hear
you play, like the old days
when you were in college and
I was a business student
- a business student who talked
too loudly, she protested
..........didn't know how to stop
..........reciting returns and taxes
curiously appeared when she started
fiddling on the piano, lightly touching keys
no time to make music, grad studies
work, clocks, buses, marriage
kids, moving out, buy a house
kindergarten, reading, soccer
..........art
..........karate, school
music lessons
"I want them to know how to play the piano."
Let's buy a new couch to match the house.
old. new.
fresh beginnings, fragrant as spring rain
old memories like yellowed, brittle music pieces
greens and browns
smell of dust in the air
mud tracked through the kitchen floor
your daughter practicing her scales
concentration on her brow
writing her mock theory exams, her legs
propped up on the couch
your son growing up on music
his play pen in the middle of the living room
standing up when his father closed the newspaper
padded over to the piano
lifted the dark mahogany cover
and pressed a key
wishing he could play
i love you, the piano said to the couch
i have always loved you, she pours
her heart out like a string
blowing into the air
written notes of declaration
across the thick beige carpet
past the gauzy curtain
to land on the seat of the couch
I cannot touch you, but I can see
..........hear, speak to you
..........tell you what i hear
share what i might happen to feel
two pieces of furniture
in the same room
in the same house
sharing the same love.
* * *