I ate pancakes one night in a Pancake House <br />Run by a lady my age. She was gay. <br />When I told her that I came from Pasadena <br />She laughed and said, "I lived in Pasadena <br />When Fatty Arbuckle drove the El Molino bus." <br /> <br />I felt that I had met someone from home. <br />No, not Pasadena, Fatty Arbuckle. <br />Who's that? Oh, something that we had in common <br />Like -- like -- the false armistice. Piano rolls. <br />She told me her house was the first Pancake House <br /> <br />East of the Mississippi, and I showed her <br />A picture of my grandson. Going home -- <br />Home to the hotel -- I began to hum, <br />"Smile a while, I bid you sad adieu, <br />When the clouds roll back I'll come to you." <br /> <br />Let's brush our hair before we go to bed, <br />I say to the old friend who lives in my mirror. <br />I remember how I'd brush my mother's hair <br />Before she bobbed it. How long has it been <br />Since I hit my funnybone? had a scab on my knee? <br /> <br />Here are Mother and Father in a photograph, <br />Father's holding me.... They both look so young. <br />I'm so much older than they are. Look at them, <br />Two babies with their baby. I don't blame you, <br />You weren't old enough to know any better; <br /> <br />If I could I'd go back, sit down by you both, <br />And sign our true armistice: you weren't to blame. <br />I shut my eyes and there's our living room. <br />The piano's playing something by Chopin, <br />And Mother and Father and their little girl <br /> <br />Listen. Look, the keys go down by themselves! <br />I go over, hold my hands out, play I play -- <br />If only, somehow, I had learned to live! <br />The three of us sit watching, as my waltz <br />Plays itself out a half-inch from my fingers.<br /><br />Randall Jarrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-player-piano/
