Singing for the country,
the world; a song of
terrific promises unfilled,
song of parts unified wrongly,
song of tatters stitched crazy
but holding tight;

I am girded
with a black snake leather belt
and a floppy faded black hat; no one
trusts me if they can even see me
standing on the corner singing
so loudly.

Damaged as I am,
it’s easier to stand apart from the
song, the singing even,
let the crowd walk by
not hearing; the outlandish clothes
notwithstanding I am invisible
to the crowds surging silently
forward, backward, every way
available.

I don’t care if they see me, if they listen,
if they even hear. Singing for
the whole country, the whole world;
who gives a damn if I am heard
or not?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T