On The Corner of Wistner Street and Parking Avenue

Street musician poem.

 

On The Corner of Wistner Street and Parking Avenue

Justin Guidroz

 

The sun rises and my strings pluck

A funky little melody

To the passing ducks

On the corner of Wistner Street and Parking Avenue

Sits a little old man with a four string in hand

Playing a song just for you.

 

People pass by and pay no mind

But he doesn’t care, no.

He has no time for naysayers and hipsters

With their teeny bop.

He just keeps pluckin’ on the four string,

Gonna make it to the top.

 

On the corner of Wistner Street and Parking Avenue

The little old man sits and strums out his favorite tunes.

He’s not asking for money or for sympathy.

All he wants is to play music

And for you to let him be.

 

Now, one day he’ll pass on

And won’t be there anymore,

And the corner will be bare once more.

Until I get up in age and I’ll take his spot

And I’ll pick my little four string and make the beats drop

 

On the corner of Wistner Street and Parking Avenue

I’ll sit my old bones down and play some tunes

To an audience of one, just like my predecessor,

A little kid sitting on the corner

Like I was before.

 

I became the little man on the corner

Of Wistner and Parking Avenue

And that little child cattycorner to me

Happens to be you.