Eighteen minutes on the sea-bus’ countdown to departure clock
Empty bus loop at the Quay
The 239 pulls in and its engine breaks the quiet
A busker with an audience of one puts together a song
The guitar strings sing and fill the underground
Fifteen minutes left until the sea-bus sails
Handfuls of commuters on the ramp
The guitarist sings mumbled and forlorn
Another bus swings by on its way
I walk away as the busker finds his song
His voice follows me
Nine minutes left.
“Don’t worry, it’s not a gun” he said as he sat down on the bench beside me.
He pulled out a bottle of Wiser’s from a black pencil bag (that did not hold a gun).
“Beautiful day. Like being on vacation.”
His name is Derek. Derek is a Heavy Metal music prodigy akin to Ozzy Osbourne. In fact, Derek is the second coming of Ozzy Osbourne. Derek’s voice and lyrics are one in a million.
He wore a black eye.
Derek from Haney. A lost man.
He cried as he sat beside me on the bench. I could see his eyes filling up with tears as he looked away. Many moments passed as he collected himself. He apologized and then he continued his story.
A hobo gambler with a sixty-five dollar shirt. Caught between Angels and Triads. Fed up with taxi cab drivers and leery of Columbians.
A car accident…
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Hand on pen, hand on pencil, paper blank
I look for the artist’s artist
I want to see, I want to hear truth – alive
I want to know that some things are sacred
Like a current through all of us
Let love rule