Two Poems

Both of the following poems were written in Chicago, but at different times. I'll admit that I am a Chicago-lover (the city, not the musical or band). I've spent a lot of time there. Amazingly, while walking down Michigan Avenue I saw the same man playing the saxophone on the same street corner on two separate occasions, several months apart. I was in completely different moods one those occasions, so I wrote from different perspectives.

Passing

In the city’s wind a man stood alone
With his music, saxophone swaying
The passersby. Rushed steps clapped
The sidewalk, pushing their way through
The crowd. Now and then a coin is thrown
Into his musty case. Once I walked by without
Noticing his upturned collar to fight the cold.
My shoulder brushed another’s
And I turned back to listen and stare.
His fingers, covered from the remains
Of old gloves, pressed and released.
His sad face echoed the song, evening out
The fast tempo of Chicago’s Michigan Avenue,
And I added my dollar to the shallow case.




Stopping to Listen

On a sun soaked corner a man stood alone
With his music, saxophone sounds gliding
On the afternoon breeze.
The city’s congested screams quieted
As his musty case was caught in my view.
I recognized the threadbare gloves
He wore while his fingers pressed and released.
I waited for his song to end, its whistling tones
Bouncing to the fast tempo, and his eyes squinted
In a smile. I dropped my dollar into the shallow case,
Wondering why his song had changed.