Man With Guitar
Douglas Holder
And when he riffed
his girth
was no obstacle.
He rose
like beckoned
from above.
His head craned
like a meaty swan
following the music
like some
driven
Egyptian hieroglyphic--
face twitching
as if it
was synchronized.
His eyes tightly
locked
on the singers.
And
all I could see
were his
agile, manic
fingers.
