Friday, December 5, 2008

Strange company

Waiting for the Queen streetcar
I find myself in the company
Of a one-legged man with a bicycle
Amplifier in a gym bag swung over one shoulder
His guitar case tips into the street and he screams
I prop it against the shelter glass for him
Slurring and excitable
He's either drunk or crazy or both.

Eyes blazing and unsteady
He complains in his scratchy, mumbling voice
About how it's too cold to play today
How long and painful his commute home is
How the Asian guy behind me is blocking his view
Prolonged small talk
No more or less awkward and commonplace
Than it ever is.

1 comment:

Andrew Genius said...

I'm currently leaving a comment on this poem in a trendy coffee bar on Bay street operated by Asian twenty something baristas in studio lighting. There's obscure fusion jazz quietly playing as I navigate through windows on some random internet connection I just discovered and decided to leech off of. The terrible coffee I'm drinking cost $4.50.

I hate downtown and everything about it.