This is a space where I have a mid life crisis, write about my creative journey, and talk about songwriting and share bits of terrible poetry.

Your Piano Teacher Ain’t Here (poem)

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Have you ever watched Monk play?

This motherfucker was so cool he had to wear a hat all the time to keep his head warm or it would freeze.

His piano teacher screamed at him too.

About how his finger might break into a million pieces

As he pound away at the keys.

Or the keys might break.

It’s impossible really.

He’s gonna hit a wrong note one day.

It is a catostrophe waiting to happen.

A trainwreck coming down the line that you see before it happens.

The suspense.

Sitting on the edge of my seat.

You just don’t do that!

Exasperated.

And then she stepped back and listened to him play.

Epistrophy

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