Playing On The Black Keys
Playing on the black keys while it is pouring down rain
twenty feet and a thin wall away, she lifts her eyes
from the piano and sees he is still sitting there,
legs stretched and crossed at the ankle.
He wears green socks.
Solid green not too dark not to be noticed,
not bright like neon.
Green like the leaves twenty feet away
that bend and drip rain. Playing the black keys.
Odd to her that she didn’t notice the color
or type of shoes he wears.
She works the foot pedals barefoot, sensed to the feel
of the pedal against her uncovered foot.
The apartment is quite large.
It could have once been a formal dance hall
or an expansive private library,
and it easily absorbs the presence of the man,
the pianist and the piano.
Playing on the black keys while it is pouring down rain
twenty feet and a thin wall away, she lifts her eyes
from the piano and sees he is still sitting there,
legs stretched and crossed at the ankle.
He wears green socks.
Solid green not too dark not to be noticed,
not bright like neon.
Green like the leaves twenty feet away
that bend and drip rain. Playing the black keys.
Odd to her that she didn’t notice the color
or type of shoes he wears.
She works the foot pedals barefoot, sensed to the feel
of the pedal against her uncovered foot.
The apartment is quite large.
It could have once been a formal dance hall
or an expansive private library,
and it easily absorbs the presence of the man,
the pianist and the piano.
Vanished
When the old man running the cash register,
the patriarch of the family-owned restaurant,
started withholding waitresses’ tips, stealing them,
to give a too late miniscule financial boost
to the failing restaurant it was the end
for the forty-year-old community landmark.
The restaurant had been in business since the population
had expanded from ten thousand to two and a half times
that but instead of meaning more patrons,
the population increase brought competition
from several fast food chains and other family food type
restaurants and cafes.
While still attracting a fair breakfast clientele,
lunch and dinner business now went elsewhere.
The restaurant tried to maintain: coupons, lower prices,
special all you can eat events all proved ineffective.
The most popular waitresses, servers, left because
their tips were being stolen.
The restaurant declared bankruptcy.
A major rehab and redecorating inside and out
couldn’t be paid for. A sign was taped to the front door
the day of the closing and the parking lot stayed empty.
Vacant for more than two years with little prospect
of being sold or leased, the only sign of life
was the landscaper who came regularly to water and trim
the recently planted hedges along the front of the restaurant.
When the old man running the cash register,
the patriarch of the family-owned restaurant,
started withholding waitresses’ tips, stealing them,
to give a too late miniscule financial boost
to the failing restaurant it was the end
for the forty-year-old community landmark.
The restaurant had been in business since the population
had expanded from ten thousand to two and a half times
that but instead of meaning more patrons,
the population increase brought competition
from several fast food chains and other family food type
restaurants and cafes.
While still attracting a fair breakfast clientele,
lunch and dinner business now went elsewhere.
The restaurant tried to maintain: coupons, lower prices,
special all you can eat events all proved ineffective.
The most popular waitresses, servers, left because
their tips were being stolen.
The restaurant declared bankruptcy.
A major rehab and redecorating inside and out
couldn’t be paid for. A sign was taped to the front door
the day of the closing and the parking lot stayed empty.
Vacant for more than two years with little prospect
of being sold or leased, the only sign of life
was the landscaper who came regularly to water and trim
the recently planted hedges along the front of the restaurant.
Visitation Rites
Few people browse the small indie retail store
on Tuesday mornings, or any other morning for that matter,
but Tuesday was special to shop’s owner.
For the past fourteen years, exactly half the years
she has owned the store, a man just a few years her senior
stops by every Tuesday just after the morning mail is delivered,
around ten o’clock and they offhandedly talk
about innocuous current affairs, movies, books,
all sorts of things and events for an hour or so
and then he leaves, to return in exactly a week.
On his days she takes a little extra care before coming to work,
brushing her hair and putting on almost non-existent makeup
and she always wears a sweater or blouse that is
a bit more low-cut, or unbuttoned, than usual.
They have never been out of the store together
and in fact she rarely leaves behind the counter
and he never stands too close to her.
This is how she spends a portion of one-seventh of her days.
Gene McCormick lives just west of Chicago but would much prefer Monterey. He has had twenty books published, a mix of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, and as a painter exhibits throughout the Chicago area. Proceeds from the sale of his books and artwork benefit no-kill animal shelters. To see more of his art, Google Gene McCormick Paintings.
Few people browse the small indie retail store
on Tuesday mornings, or any other morning for that matter,
but Tuesday was special to shop’s owner.
For the past fourteen years, exactly half the years
she has owned the store, a man just a few years her senior
stops by every Tuesday just after the morning mail is delivered,
around ten o’clock and they offhandedly talk
about innocuous current affairs, movies, books,
all sorts of things and events for an hour or so
and then he leaves, to return in exactly a week.
On his days she takes a little extra care before coming to work,
brushing her hair and putting on almost non-existent makeup
and she always wears a sweater or blouse that is
a bit more low-cut, or unbuttoned, than usual.
They have never been out of the store together
and in fact she rarely leaves behind the counter
and he never stands too close to her.
This is how she spends a portion of one-seventh of her days.
Gene McCormick lives just west of Chicago but would much prefer Monterey. He has had twenty books published, a mix of poetry, fiction and non-fiction, and as a painter exhibits throughout the Chicago area. Proceeds from the sale of his books and artwork benefit no-kill animal shelters. To see more of his art, Google Gene McCormick Paintings.