2021-10-06T19:16:40-07:00January 6th, 2014|Musings on life|

The street performer

The street performer insists
we call her Hector,
which makes us all laugh.

She is loud,
doesn’t need a microphone
even though the crowd is deep.

She wears purple tights
a polka-dot dress
and her hair in pigtails,
which would make her seem like a child
except that she has enormous breasts
and flicks profanities
around the crowd
like spitballs.

I’ve seen her here before
and I am as spellbound as always
by the rumble of her courage,
her roaring determination
to make us like her.

But I wonder
if she realizes
that what happens
is bigger than that.

As we laugh
at her grand finale,
Hector laughs too
and we are a hundred strangers
splitting with joy
sharing a cold day,
all secretly wanting
to hug.

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