The Pianist
I flick through the TV channels. It is football
and football, except on Fox News, but they
are so insane there I rather watch sport.
I played the picturesque game once as defender
but I grew up and it was at the same time
as I stopped believing in god and that he looked
like the pianists in Alfred´s cafe.
I have often missed the pianist, not long ago I
saw him in Faro, followed him along the promenade
I fell over a pollard; he helped me up and said:
“Once and for all I´m not your father.”
I once saw my father on the bus, he was an enigma
a shell that gave nothing away except being drunk.
Totally unlike the
pianist who wears a beret, alpaca
pianist who wears a beret, alpaca
jacket and a yellow silk scarf.
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