Indian Summer
by W. Andrew Sterling
you begin to learn the piano, and
you think you know all about it.
you grab a piano and
tuck it underneath your arm.
you sit at a piano think
that your parents’ room is
hotter than yours,
and that you must get practice there
too before you can consider yourself
thoroughly done.
under the goregous panorama
of an indian summer
you smile at a piano and
your mind wanders. a similar
vowel sound to the English
word raw is pronounced
by a piano in New York in
the second millenium. an olive
and a potato are following you.
you gaggle and none
of your initiation will pay off.
you cannot find another olive and potato.
you can now play ‘jiggle truck’
on your piano and you have only
played piano twice.
your friend has also played piano twice.
at night you go
hunting for a piano
when your friend brings
you a coke. you open your coat and
find a piano.
