William Taylor Jr.

A Pretty Scandinavian Girl Was Playing the Piano

There was a party in the alley outside the North Beach bar.
A pretty Scandinavian girl was playing the piano
and singing, she was quite something.
Everybody sat at tables and drank and watched.
One by one people got up to dance -
the lady poet with the flowing scarves
the lady painter with the swirling skirts
the dude poet with the beret and some kind of little flute
and the tourists who were just passing by,
all of them up there dancing, laughing,
swinging each other around with abandon
like something from a film.
I sat there annoyed with the fact of them
being so easy with their joy,
oblivious to their imperfect bodies
as they flailed them about,
bitter that my own joy
was broken and wouldn't
let me dance in broad daylight
as the pretty Scandinavian girl banged the keys.

 

The Girl at the Record Store Counter

Despite what the inspirational memes would suggest
it's more than likely things will not be okay
anytime soon.
As we wait for the eternal silence 
to restore its mercy
you and me and everyone we love
will be burdened with more than we can bear.
Our nightmares will come true as often as not
and we will look as old in photographs as we imagine.
The loneliness that haunts our bones will find no other home.
Beauty is expendable and will be first
on the chopping block when it all comes down.
The poets and the artists have not saved us,
the pretty bartender will not read your book
and the girl at the record store counter
is unimpressed with your choices.
Death will arrive as pointless and as certain
as an ad for something you never wanted
and couldn't afford if you did.
But music exists,
and the fire and noise of our blood.
If you're lucky enough and you work it right
you can choose a bit how your heart is broken
and that's as good a deal as anyone will give you.

 

 

William Taylor Jr. lives and writes in San Francisco.He is the author of numerous books of poetry, and a volume of fiction. His work has been published widely in literary journals, including Rattle, The New York Quarterly, and The Chiron Review. He was a recipient of the 2013 Kathy Acker Award, and edited Cocky Moon: Selected Poems of Jack Micheline (Zeitgeist Press, 2014). His latest poetry collection, A Room Above a Convenience Store, is available from Roadside Press.