There’s a piano in the alleyway
beside Black Honey
three people are gathered around it
as I walk by;
One of the guys is sitting
on the piano stool, not playing;
Seems criminal, to sit
at a piano and not play.
It’s a nice day for walking
downhill in the shade
not so much uphill,
weighed down
by borrowed books.
The girl ahead of me
matching steps with a boy
has tattoos all down her right side;
the left is pristine, unmarred;
But then, I’m only seeing her
from behind; perhaps she’s
a mirror image from the front.
When faced with imbalance,
we all compensate in one
way or another;
I keep mentally rearranging
the tattoos, redistributing them
evenly on both sides;
From this distance, they are
unintelligible, amorphous
smudges of darkish brownish green.
When faced with imbalance, we
all compensate in one way
or another, lest we all
fall
down.
– T.H.
(Sept. 16, 2015, walking home from Black Honey after visiting the library)
