Seen On Seventh Avenue Poem by Susan Lacovara

On a Sunday circus stroll
With my favorite court jester
Jaywalking through laughter
And a million Manhattan mannequins
The sea of people parted
To unveil a curious sight
In silver sequined spandex bodysuit
Like a Cirque De Soleil spinning acrobat
A man, perched high atop
An antique oversized front wheeled bicycle
Dangling his makeshift tip cup
A plastic fishbowl, from a rod
Behind him, pulling a harp with no strings
I noted he truly had no strings attached
To the mouths, gapping open
The shutters clicking from tourists cameras
Trying to make sense of his show
Tried as I did to blend into the backdrop
His eyes found me as if with radar
He waved wildly, shouting for me to stop
And let me hear his serenade
In all the traffic
Why pick me....
I could not help but smile
As he strummed a ukulele
With absolutely no talent
Singing 'Tiptoe Through The Tulips'
Before pedalling past the noon hour