Little Cautions (Barcelona, 2009)

He's playing guitar on the street corner,

the man with the torn-up sneakers,

the beer belly,

the dark glasses and white cane

lying beside his stool like

a faithful dog. He is apart,

set away from the world

by his guitar case 

like a koi pond with a few euro

(their luster dull in the shade)

by his pizza-box sign

"Americano - cegado

en la guerra de Afganistán -

por favor ayuda"

by his warbling song

the Spanish broken,

Mexican-tainted, the chords

streamlined, predestined,

so clearly learned by memory alone.

Eyes slide over him,

wary of that which is below them,

that which is desperate enough

to lounge on this street corner

(with the white pigeon splashes,

the age spots on the walls,

the gunmetal gray of the clouds,

promising a short sharp shock of storm)

and might therefore be desperate enough

to do something else.

They hurry by, swinging shopping bags,

pushing strollers, leaving

the guitar case of euro

untouched.

************

Just so you know, I've never been to Barcelona, or Spain at all for that matter. This is all my imagination.

TOP THIS THREAD! NOW!!! ALL THE GREAT POETRY IS GREAT!!!!! TTTTTTTOOOOOOOOOOPPPP!!!!!!!

Koda says kama. Like Captain Rex's skirt thing from Clone Wars, Koda?

I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, I'm SO MAD AT MYSELF! I wrote a whole long poem and I accidentally deleted it!!! ARGH!!!!!!!

Awesome song Elementgirl! I love it! 

His Magic 

The fingers of my left hand 

Fly across the worn strings 

Of my Grandfather's guitar. 

Playing the song I have played

So many times before.

Mother says I'm the makings 

For a real classical musician.

Like Grandfather. 

I see his firm, wrinkled, 

Calloused hands in my mind. 

Always bringing joyful music into this world. 

I think of his face, 

Always smiling to

Encourage me. 

He isn't here to encourage me now though. 

Isn't here, 

To help me through my pain.

To help me see

What I already know. 

Every living thing must die.

Classical music so so full of life,

Yet life is full of death.

So therefor, classical music is also full of death?

No. Not in my mind. 

It is full of magic in my mind. 

Full of his magic. 

I remember him lifting me up 

Onto his knee.

His big hand

Sliding over the polished neck of the guitar

Along with mine. 

Now I stand alone, 

playing for him one more time, 

As tears fall onto the guitar he taught me on. 

Somehow

The music fills me with happiness.

Even as I play it to him...

For the last time, 

Before the coffin lid closes on his smiling face. 

Forever. 

EG, are you gonna judge???????????????????????????????????:)