My third finger stretches past its pain
as I pick out a simple melody.
I used to be better at this;
I used to be better than this.

After a few moments, I put it away;
move my finger till it snaps again
just as it used to, just as it had stopped
for a while as I played. It used to be better than this.

I used to be better than this –just closed my eyes
whenever the greasy notes of the chords
sang out and it sounded as if someone else
were playing. Never happens now —

I used to know better than this,
I used to be better than this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T