PIANO



Oh, God

I tremble in my boots

Oh, God

Down to my very roots

Oh, God

The moment I dread most

The moment when -

in all my wisdom

prudence

cleverness -

I deemed it prudent

clever

WISE!

That at this very moment

I should improvise!

Yes, improvise!

Me, improvise!

Or rather that -

if my show were

ship or boat -

sit back and watch the thing

CAPSIZE

or float!

Now I’m on a crazy tack!

What shall I say

to get back on track?

Oh, yes!

Today

An easy start

A subject familiar to all

We’ve all experienced it

Or I hope we have

In one form or another

However small

Today

Hm! Hm!

Today

Oh, God

I hate this

Im-pro-vi-sation

A thing at which

I must admit

I’m not the greatest of sensations

As I am at other things

Which brings me back -

quite simply -

to

Today

Today

Oh, get on with it, Lillian!

If you insist

I do! I do!

The minutes that pass are precious

And all too few

Which leads me subtly on to

TIME

But what about today?

Oh, yes!

But first the little matter of today

Thank you for reminding me

My pleasure

Why anyone would prefer today to time

Which quite frankly encompasses

all todays that ever were

and ever will be

I cannot fathom,

But there we are,

or were,

now I’m confused,

Oh, the piano will destroy you

The piano will destroy you

If you let it,

now come on,

stop procrastinating,

which is a subtle way

of getting to today,

for what is this delay

or procrastinithinimmigug

if not a desire

to do tomorrow

what should be done

today

So there we have it

Without delay

I will improvise upon

Today

Today

was very simi-lar to

yesterday

And

I believe

The forecast is

That tomorrow will be much the same

Though we may call it by a different name

And furthermore

I do believe

That every day

By which I mean of course

Today

Tomorrow

And, yes,

Yesterday

Are of much the same material made

And while we’re on the subject

TIME

Not yet, you swine

What do you mean

A little soliloquy

On, yes,

Let’s see

Ah, yes!

The days of the week

And then on Time I’ll let you speak

Oh, God

The piano will destroy you

The piano will destroy you!

Tuesday,

Wednesday

Where does it start?

The week I mean

I seek a start

A point from which I can depart

Or is it Sunday

No, it’s Monday

Or we assume it is

The start I mean

But how

in God’s name

do we know

My week starts on Friday

Well it did this week

But if next week it is another day

how do I know when next week has begun?

Which brings me subtly on to TIME

TIME is a pool

A stagnant pool

It’s not a machine

Well oiled and clean

It’s how you perceive it

That decides how you receive it

I see no structure

See no lines

I see a lazy arm instead

That hangs

Yes, hangs

Hangs limply in the water

Oh, the piano will destroy you

The piano will destroy you

Time Time

For you a rhyme

The present soon becomes the past

The future was not made to last

For future soon becomes the present

Soon becomes the past

Where it remains

A little

and, yes, slightly

overcast

And if I’m overcrowding -

As I’m overcrowding mine -

Your little brains

I’ll change the subject

Change the rhyme

Change the trains

And

Change the line

Where to now?

Quick

Quick

Mustn’t stop

Scurry

Scurry

(Phone rings)

Hello.

I’m in a hurry.

No, don’t worry.

Can’t talk now.

Must say ‘Goodbye’.

Goodbye.

(Puts phone down)

There, I said it.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes.

The floods of time.

The years and months fly by.

As do the seconds

minutes

hours

and micro ...

Stop!

Stop!

So much to say!

And do!

Where does it go?

This flood of time

Where does it come from?

Where from does it spill?

This everlasting stream

Whose rivulets I see

upon my skin.

And then when skin is

cracked and scored

and paper thin

And drought is present

where the waters

in their fury

once did roar

I then am carried

by the current

Where?

Where?

When all is at an end?

If end indeed there is

I cannot think.

I cannot think.

The piano will destroy me.

The piano will destroy me.

And time.

Time.

It’s getting late.

The hours,

the minutes,

and the seconds

tick, tick,

and trickle on

Ah,

The piano.

The piano.

The piano.

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