The Pianist

The Pianist I flick through the TV channels. It is football and football, except on Fox News, but they are so insane there I rather watch sport. I played the picturesque game once as defender but I grew up and it was at the same time as I stopped believing in god and that he looked like the pianists in Alfred´s cafe. I have often missed the pianist, not long ago I saw him in Faro, followed him along the promenade I fell over a pollard; he helped me up and said: “Once and for all I´m not your father.” I once saw my father on the bus, he was an enigma a shell that gave nothing away except being drunk. Totally unlike the pianist who wears a beret, alpaca jacket and a yellow silk scarf.