The Guitar Player
Greasy hair under his baseball cap,
day-old stubble on his double chin,
he picks away on his Gibson guitar,
eyes half shut easing the guilt
of leaving his family behind.
Miles of road ahead of him,
rain hits the windows of the tour bus,
he's seen them all----the farmlands,
mountains, deserts, woodlands
and skyscraper cities.
Booze and smoke cloud his brain,
he can't remember when he had a
home-cooked meal last,
he's played in all the honky-tonk dives
from here to there where he still
smiles at the pretty women who
give him the eye cause they love his
music and masculinity,
he's the guitar player.
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