A back porch guitar man sends

a song into an alley.  Sweat stains

his hat and baptizes his shirt.

He sings of cards, gin, smoke and lies.

Sure fingers free the fear he protects.


Pigeons rustle nervously above.

Strangers shuffle by, chasing

last night’s dreams.  A cat circles a

trach can.


He pushes the song from a place

he keeps hidden.


Velvet sheets of rain drift over him.

Midnight calls him friend.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s