Certain Buskers That I See

There are certain buskers that I see

my favorite is the one guy that sings smoothly

like he is crooning to a lover

snapping gently in time

while he sings classics like “My Girl” with such brevity of ego

that the spirit lifts

just to hear him whisked away into his own world as we watch

against the passing trains


My second favorite I see late at night

often in strange places

I hear the shuffle and I know it’s him

He has a plastic bottle attached to his foot

and impressively, a hammer for support

and every inch of him is rhythm

there is no stone unturned

I think it might even be gravel in his boot

keeping time


My third favorite is the guy against the building

singing plaintively in a blanket


I know he’s homeless but he seems ok.


I stand by and listen. He doesn’t care if he has an audience.

He is singing for his soul, for the homeland


somewhere deep inside of him.