Monday, March 2, 2015

poem of the day 03.02.15


manhattan is full of musicians
hocking their cds

they hang around the tourist areas mostly
hitting up the stiffs from out of town

the musicians shove their cds
into people’s hands before they realize it

then they’re asking for twenty bucks for their art

you see it all of the time
some poor sap in times square
with his red sox hat, his camera and backpack
a silver disc held limply in his hand

surrounded by five or six of them
each holding their own stack of cds

the cops don’t do anything about this
not when there are terrorists in brooklyn
and jaywalkers in the bronx

so the musicians are free to solicit
whatever money they can get
using an old school kind of persuasion

some of them will follow you for blocks
telling you how much you’ll love their music

they’ll say you look like a rap fan or a rock fan

i’ve been called bon jovi, aerosmith, and john lennon
as a form of flattery

the musicians say, hey, rod stewart,
you look like you dig music, man

then they’re practically throwing cds at you

if you don’t say anything to them
the conversation turns belligerent

you’re no longer rod stewart but some fag peckerwood
who thinks you’re better than they are

by keeping your hands in your pocket
staying silent and going about your business

you think if those guys were really good musicians
they wouldn’t have to be selling their stuff on the street

but, of course, just turning on the radio proves you wrong

instead you wonder
if there’s actually anything on those cds

whatever passes for music these days

then you turn the bend
and there’s two or three more of them coming at you

shouting, yo, jim morrison, jim morrison
you a rap fan or what?

then you don’t really fucking care at all.


No comments: