A Busker with a Broken Guitar by M Bae


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A busker with a broken guitar
sings a cure for urban misery.
Between neon stars made up of Corporate letters
and spoiled lights of a lonely streetlamp
he plucks his broken guitar away;
itís no stage for moonlit serenades.

The floating faces that throb along
the corners marked by illegible signs
go untouched by his indigo breath;
orts of words sprawled on asphalt,
licked over by rubber tires.

string,
Strum that
strum
Strike
strike
that
chord!

Chanter on, my busker friend,
obla-dibla-da till the coming
of a second Christ!

And in the case of his broken guitar:
three pennies and a palmful of dimes
just enough for a bottled DASANI
to make him sing still some more
of himself into morsels,
while night lasts.
Push Play.