The Piano Man

I'm sick of phone calls followed by tears.
I know you don't know what it's like not to go to the aquarium but I know someone who does.

This poem was meant for the ash filled lungs, the lives lived within a reach of a prescription and any other addiction you can creatively gift wrap in a metaphor.

I know you don't see it right now... But take it from a 9 year old boy that saw that social drink 20 years down the road.
So if you want something real...
I'm gonna tell you about a fourth grader full of dreams that learned to stomach the reality of an empty seat at every major milestone his life has to offer.

No wait... Let me tell you about me.
The ice inside my veins right now is literally heating the back of my neck.

Its telling me that addiction has a funny way of ripping the pictrues from the walls and the drawers from the dressers.
Its telling me that without addictions clamp those pictures would have hung up right there. They never would have shattered across the room and on the floor.
Its telling me there is ALWAYS another way out.

The fire beneat the cracked seal and tucked in under the cottom swab...
That Pain Relieving Pop

It burns holes in family walls and scourges the realtionships that stand between you and your next withdrawl.
People weren't meant to live a life of shakes and headaches.

That 9 year O... I mean I remember.
I remember ever note your keyboard was capable of conjuring .
I remember sitting on the couch watching the windows shake as your music filled the neighborhood.
But then.... then I remember sitting at your funeral.
For the first time realizing that Billy Joel wrote the song but that somehow you always were and always will the THE PIANO MAN.
I remember the way your video camera never stopped rolling... But then on August 1st it did.
The hardest part for me... Is remembering the butaneer I left on the casket.
That pin that held it to my suit coat had to be pryed from my heart before I was ready to leave it.
I still don't feel like I was ready to leave it...
I remember watching the casket lower 6 feet from the tears in my eyes.

His addiction is the reason he NEVER saw a football game and the same reason that he will NEVER dance at his daughters wedding.

As he sat at his piano I think he was convinced it would never be him...
But it was.

So ask yourself.... Is it worth it?