3.13.2009

His had eighty-seven.

We were there buying boxers
and taking a stroll, not holding hands
or anything. It was good to get out
of the bedroom, put pants on.
It was even better that the store whose
underwear I've worn exclusively for ten years
was having a sale in that department.
A whole new wardrobe of plaids and pirate ships.
My ex's flamboyantly homosexual friend
rang me up. I don't think he remembered me.
I was simultaneously thankful and insulted.

The mandatory loser lap through that pathetic
one-level mall composed mostly of sneaker stores
came next. We rolled with the self-inflicted punches
and were fortunate enough not to see anyone
we disliked in high school and feel the same way about
now, which is usually the case when there.
Those awkward passings-by are easier when
you're not alone; a problem shared
is a problem halved almost fifty-percent of the time.

In one of the larger intersections in front of
one of the larger stores there was
an array of pianos on display where
a few benches and tropical plants used to be.
We approached cautiously and navigated through the
polished chunks of wood and faux ivory.
As if on cue an old man in a gray suit
with a face like a rubber Nixon mask
began playing one of the pianos
as he tapped his foot gently on the
imitation marble floor and avoided eye contact.
It instantly made my heart drop.
Suddenly I wanted to hold hands, but didn't.
It's just not my style anymore.
I've learned where holding things gets you.

Two weeks later I returned to that dismal place
to exchange something at that large store
near that large intersection. I was alone
and in my work boots and dirty jeans
with sawdust in the long curls protruding from my hat.
I heard the music in the piano maze and cringed.
A quick glance shot around my perimeter
left me baffled for a few brief seconds
since the old man in the gray suit
was nowhere to be seen.
Then I saw the sign:
"Learn to play piano on your very own!"
It was propped up on the most hideous one there
which was spewing out a warm melody
that somehow left me feeling cold.

An automated piano for an automated world.
I'd found something sadder than the old gray man
and my boxers weren't on sale anymore.
Served me right for trying.

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