Richard Gere’s Grand Piano
Here, this is it:
you work as a waitress. You
bring people their French toast
and bacon. You can’t pay the hydro bill.
I used to think of you as somebody
grand, like one of those pianos Gere
fucked Roberts on in Pretty Woman.
And that’s the thing – maybe
you are one of those pianos.
Maybe your greatest talent
is sparkling in empty foyers.
Previously featured in Edinburgh Review 134