He wakes up around 2:30 on a weekday,
Five PM on a Saturday.
If he has to, he gets up to take a piss
If not, he stays in bed a while longer
To jack off.
Once he gets his lazy ass out of bed,
He Shits, showers and shaves
Humming Schubert in the process.
He stops to pray before an Icon
Of the Virgin Mary tacked to the wall,
On the back he taped a Playboy Centerfold.
He wails as he prays,
With his hands on his heart and schmuck
“Virgin Mary, Oi, gimme’ a break!”
He stuffs his piehole with
Bacon Pierogis and Irish Coffee,
Then he gets dressed to go to work.
Tweed Coat, double-breasted,
Red bowtie,
Slacks,
And a pair of argyle socks.
He’s got an hour or two to kill,
So he folds his pants by the door,
Sits back and watches
Dateline with Chris Hansen,
Chain smoking Lucky Strikes by the pack.
At 7, it’s time to punch the clock.
He takes a cab to O’Mally’s Pub
On Ashland Avenue,
A Shitty old piano bar
Where he plays for a living.
It’s no Symphony Hall
But money's money!
As Leah the barlady scrubs the deck
And cleans the ash trays,
Morrie the Bouncer
Turns on the buzzing neon sign
Proclaiming
“It’s Miller Time”
In white-n-red letters.
Kris the polock barman
Pours the Piano Man a pint
And lights his stogie,
He takes it over to the busted up
Bar Piano on the stage in the back.
As he warms up,
The usual, sleazy drunks come in.
There’s no game on the tube,
So tonight, like just about every other
The Bar Piano Man
Is the entertainment.
He plays for us a bit of Joplin and Gershwin,
That’s what gets us in the door.
He plays Liszt, and the ladies toss him their panties.
He goes all out, rocking that shitty old upright
Hours on end until the nighttime is gone.
At 3 in the morning, closing time
One of the barladies exits the WC,
Straightening her bra and panties
As the Bar Piano Man zips his fly.
The lady gave him her stockings
As a memento,
Just to indulge his foot fetish.
As the sun rises, he takes a cab home
To his flat above the pawn shop.
He leaves out a can of sardines
For the cat,
Strips down,
Then sleeps it all off all day.
This all repeats the next day,
A man’s gotta work, a man’s gotta eat,
A man’s gotta fuck
In order to stay alive,
And that’s all there is to it,
Ad museum.
About the Creator
Dyl Elner
Just a wanna-be writer, not much else.
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