No One

Picture of No One

No One

He played on a metal power pole

next to the bus stop.

Using two sticks once fallen from some loving tree,

he beat out a rhythm long buried in his heart.

Echoes vibrated,

music saturated the air

breathed in by passersby.

The uptown #6 slowed,

then sped along.

The player’s finale reverberated,

flowed away in the breeze.

No one stopped to validate his art,

or to hear his pithy epilogue.

He walked away addressing no one,


Now that’s the way to dance and

it’s the ONLY dance there is.


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