John Lennon and I
sat down in the white room.
He asked if I wanted
to play the piano. The piano
was as forbidding as
the gates of Eden. I demurred.
I told John I had read
his books. This pleased him
beyond the mania
that surrounded his other art.
Late in the day
Yoko made some tea. The
three of us just sat there
watching the sun paint
waterlilies on the walls.
Finally, I had to leave and
my parting was bittersweet.
John embraced me
at the door. Yoko looked at
me with her widow eyes,
so full of love,
and wisdom, and a third thing.
It was that third thing
I took home with me, which
sits in me still,
like a heart as heavy as the
host, as heavy as that piano,
so white you'd swear you'd died

Volume 1, Issue 2, 2007