Review Summary: You'll give in to your desire when the stranger comes along.
I saw you there.
You were sitting in a dimly lit room,
hands on the keys as you sang
vignettes of city life, love, and loss;
you whistled out an antiquated melody
as the blues of an old piano carried you along.
I was reveling in old illustrations
of upstate New York and restaurant rendezvous,
not by glancing at the pictures around me,
but by the sheer strength of your stories.
You were sitting in a dimly lit room,
as the streets outside swallowed up your life.
I saw the piano.
It was coated in dust
and adorned with unfinished manuscripts,
chords and voicings of the everyman
envisioning life beyond these four walls;
Vienna waited for you,
yet you sat reluctantly on the stool
waiting for Vienna.
But when you played your songs
every corner of the room would light up,
as blues and jazz would convene
and mingle as longtime lovers.
I saw the piano,
a towering work of art
among the unkempt furnishings.
I saw you there.
Spinning complex yarns
out of pure observation;
crafting characters with
such vivid imagination;
a world-builder, dramatist,
a storytelling sensation.
Standing proudly as an NYC jewel
as I stood mesmerized by the ivories,
you were as calm and collected as ever
when you allowed your mind to wander
with each passing tune.
I see the mask.
Plain, unadorned, blank;
laying on the bed
as if always listening
to the musings of the piano man
as he pours his heart out
to a crowd of no one.
As if a relic of a simpler time,
it watches the lonely musician
belt out song after song in solitude.
As if a stranger in a private setting,
it waits for the artist to slip it back on
before he rests for the night;
in the end, he’ll never understand
how the stranger is inspired.
