Young Man, initial D.

 

He wheeled up

Plopped the battered bike down

And sat on it

Looked me full face, saying

I appreciate you.

Big smiles but glazed eyes.

Drugs or booze?

Liquor Store nearby.

I wanted him to sit awhile.

(Keep that bagged bottle out of sight.)

Feel the music in peace.

He used the term good old stuff.

He needed it; he did it.

Without too many odd outbursts

Unsettling the passers-by.

A rare session communing.

Some forty minutes perhaps.

Some tearful accounts

Involving Father and Grandmother.

(Her funeral was imminent.)

Just needed a patient listening ear.

Me.

By Divine appointment.

This strange old Busker.

Friend Jimmy H. would have

Done the same.

With mellow guitar.

Told him to listen to Grandpa Elliott online.