There is a squat/stout duffer in a windbreaker and a Mets cap on the outskirts of the park
playing a rickety 5 string and hoot'in and holler'in.
I have no idea what he is singing.
There is no discernible melody.
Every now and then he stops/ freezes/ puts his forefinger in the air
to take some sort of measure
before plunging back into his flailing guitar.
After another stuttering burst he will stop/
then let loose with an elongated cry to the sky/
punk operatic/ style
nobody seems to stop/and listen/he does not have a container for contributions and probably would not get much trade/
he is playing/for his own/self/and that is / enough
It's/utterly senseless/ wholly out of key.
Beyond the realm of anything/
resembling cohesive musicality
/rambunctiously obtuse
yet imbued with an innocence that casts proficient excellence into a pallid light.
His songs/ performance/ like life/ a messy and inconclusive/ thing/
You can have/ your polished practice and Carnegie aspirations/
and make of that an evening/ with class
but I like the way this codger lets her rip/
this ragged chanteur/
airs it out/ no class/ no talent/ but lotsa / style
God waves his wand gently over humanity,
The stage slowly comes to life,
Mountains appear, there is a breeze,
There is a love that is difficult to comprehend,
He is a great shakesperian actor and chanteur,
The sound of the rippling waters refreshing to the soul,
Nature comes to life, I am awed by the multi-faceted perspective,
God caresses the soul lovingly,
He is my favorite James Bond, healthy and strong,
Skiing a life of excellence and kindness,
He is my miracle and frend, I am truly thankful,
God's blessings appreciated and embraced.
Author:Gwen von Erlach Schutz
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