Music Man

Music man at the street corner, don’t stop playing that melody that makes me feel like I’m in a movie, the main, lead me as the music leads you too; cadence causing the exchange of blue souls. Your heart beats enable your hands to move, fingers plucking the strings which shake in excitement making the molecules in the air dance and vibrate, bumping into each other in a crowded nightclub. Their collision is an energy wave bouncing through this alleyway, weighing down the velvet summer, leaping off the sandstone cathedral walls and off flowers hanging from all the balconies. The prearranged bouquets of Sunflowers and Asters after your show.

After your performance, after music gives you liberation, after the crowd — I alone — applauds the color you add around you. Each strum harmonizes and paints the distant voices, tires rolling over cobblestone roads, and the natural hum of the air. But when you press down against the neck of the guitar, do your fingers bruise, do you always play here, even when there’s no one around?

Is this beauty causing you pain, as you relieve mine?