The Piano Man

She sat in that dingy bar, not belonging there, but not shooed away either. Dirty, dull maroon hair gathered up in a messy bun, an occasional sip from her dusty glass of liquor. A man pounds at the piano, his fingers flying across the keys as he sings a haunted melody. Next to her glass sits an old harmonica that hasn’t been used in years. The clock on the wall tells the lonely girl that its 9 o’clock, another typical Saturday night spent at that small bar. The regular crowd shuffles into the bar, waiting to hear the piano man play. Paul, the unwedded real estate novelist, made his usual conversation with the one from the Navy, ironically named Davy. Businessmen, tired from their days of nothing, pour into the bar and loose themselves in vodka and tonics, the lone waitress bustles around them talking in political tongues. A buddy of the piano man’s was John, always dreaming of being a movie star, but was stuck instead here, contenting himself to bring the pianist’s drinks for free. But most peculiar was this night was the old man who walked in and took his place next to the magical piano player. The girl’s eyes were locked on him as he ordered a tonic and gin, slowly and almost painfully drinking it. A handful of coins clunked in the bottom of the piano man’s jar as the old one spoke. “Son can you play me a memory? I’m not really sure how it goes…but it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete…when I wore a younger man’s clothes.” At this point the manager looked over; it was the first time anyone had requested a song. Most would ask why he’s there, soaking in the loneliness and despair of the patrons. But the piano man’s face showed no surprise, and merely nodded. Without another thought, she swiped the harmonica up in her hands and approached the piano man. He smiled as she put the worn instrument to her lips, a new being taking over her as she blew the notes out into the bar. The piano entered quietly, and his easy voice sang out the old man’s song. The others, the waitress and her business men, Davy and Paul, even John, stopped wallowing in themselves and listened. It was an unplanned escape from reality, a chance to forget about life for awhile.

“Sing us a song you’re the piano man,
Sing us a song tonight.
Because we’re all in the mood for a melody,
And you’ve got us feeling alright.”