Isn’t it a beautiful
Saturday night
in the city?

A punk fan
spits up on a classic rock fan
in front of a disco
as a car banging rap slips by
and a country fan turns up her nose
at the hard, hard house music
her date seems to prefer.
The jazz fan hurries past everyone
because no one likes a jazz fan
except for the reggae fans — they
love everyone, mostly.  Mostly —
except for that guy
with “Tosca” leaking
from his earbuds.  Meanwhile
on the corner two surprising kids
are committing a bluegrass murder,
hoping for spare change in the hat
and getting some
while there’s a hint of bhangra in the air
and a hint of merengue in the air
and a hint of calypso and soca and mento
and someone’s got a ska torch lit too;

isn’t it a beautiful Saturday night
in the clamoring city,
isn’t it making you wish
you could play everything
whenever you close your eyes?