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