Parkinson’s but no complaints
the beauty of your surrendered mind
lapsarian, not self indulgent
printing the dust of my mouth with electrifying loops
just playing the piano
(not an easy thing to do in your condition)
you’d take my mind off it
when the dark things rolled
you were there, not complaining
but twinkling
that moody blue being beside you twinkling, too
forecasting flight
over complex arenas
now it’s sort of
amazonian (blanco, negro)
to hear you speechless
on every occasion
tingling the ivories, upending
the thunder
of your smiles