Sing us a song, you’re the piano man

Billy Joel crooned that tune
from the tiny tinny radio
in my high school bedroom, 
with its white provincial
furniture and gold shag 
carpet. I listened as I did
my French homework
and dreamed of a life larger 
than could be lived 
in Skaneateles, New York. 

Fifty years ago 
that album came out.
Fifty years ago.