On Hearing American Pie Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

I heard that song again
As I walked on a very busy street
The same one you had paced
So many years ago

I stopped and leaned against a post
Right in front of the tattoo parlor
Blasting the radio

I could have been a derelict
A senior panhandler
A con woman
A broker of goods
This block was full of them

They leaned on posts
Eyes darting back and forth
Some sporting golden chains
Or purple pants
Nobody asked them to move on
Unless they lost their cool

But I had no game to play
Just wanted to hear
What happened
In the gym
And about the pink carnation
And the truck and the levee

What happened afterward?
The song was long
And yet I did not move along
As passersby stared

The man in the tattoo parlor
Came out to look
I threw him a glance
He was the kind
Who could size up people with one look

Could he see it
Could he see
That the school across the street
Was the one you went to
As a little blond child

Doing all your homework
Walking home
With a proper gait
A briefcase in hand
Picking up treasures
On the dirty street

Could he see
That you were the man
Who walked these streets
With your guitar
And you could sing
That song too
And your levee became dry
That one day
Far away from this street

Could he see
That I too had a tattoo
On my heart
For my child
Who became a man
Whose life became a sad song?