in the crossroads

the young poet caterwauled to acoustic guitar

slamming out chords with brown hair in his eyes

white shirt and skinny jeans and espresso foam art

true love in a 16 oz. coffee cup

he smoked scented cigarettes for hours on end

the portable organ reverbed through the cold

europe crept out of hiding one evening a month

artists peddled their nightmareish wares

life spilled out on the streets