Laney at Mary O's

Nobody knows what happens

behind closed doors except those

attending a communal wonder:

a pianist tenaciously performing

love. 

A gloved hand hides

its sins. The working man,

pianist or carpenter, wears

his epidermal honesty. 

He lies to none

and hammers the keys. 

Aural beauty's indiscriminate—
only eyes lie to ears. 

The Texas fiend makes

ears weep at the spectacle

of his vessel that he's
flaying with piano strings. 

Yet most just sit

in silent bliss,

receiving the harmless

gift of art.