Babysitting the Piano with a Mouthful of Gin

I told my sister I would watch the girls so they could leave the temple, stagger the salted streets until they vomit while I played the piano all night with my glass rarely full, a fist full of gin after every song until the

bottle was hollowed like a gutted fish.

I pounded on the vulnerable keys of my grandmother’s gift she had left for me after her soul had had enough.

I played

Charles

Manzarek

Cramps

The Damned.

Slurred the words of other dead punks while the girls played in the other room.

Midnight

1o’clock

2 o’clock.

I pounded away.

The girls shopped and scribbled lipstick on their little faces, sang along to the songs they knew from

down

           the

                   hall.

The smoke from a pack of cigarettes crawled through the air, out the front door and straight into the neighbor’s window to (hopefully) put them out of their misery.

I found three beers in the interim, drank them down, then played some more.

The third beer was the night capper, or should I say morning? I rested my head on the tired keys, one last demented chord while the girls finally slept,

And the sun crawled slow up the grey morning sky.

 

*Poem by me and Pic by Bizarro Comics

 

 

One thought on “Babysitting the Piano with a Mouthful of Gin

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s