Boston Back Bay.1: 40pm Poem by gina prettybrowneyes

He comes walking down the dark dusty cement platform
Black guitar on his back
Black amp in one hand
Shiny black shoes that flash as he moves

Over the crackling loudspeaker comes a list
Train 137’s various destinations on the east coast
I know at once that his is New York City
Penn Station

The place where thousands of young artists, clutching worn twenties
In each sweaty hand
Begin their long and treacherous journey.
Reaching for what may end up to be fame, or shame

He’s trying to “break into the music industry”
An eagle tattoo on his left bicep
Reveals his inner rebel

Baring his soul in rhythmic lyrics to strangers
He sets off
Taking only his tousled hair, his guitar and amp
Those gleaming black leather shoes that seem to say:

“Here I am to tame New York.
Here I am
Full of hope, determination, inspirations, and a beating heart.
Ready to face the music”