Click here for a reading by the poet
The man holding the odd-shaped guitar case
Stands impatiently waiting for the
Music Shop to open,
He wears a Harley Davidson T-shirt,
Has a thick, black beard,
A bandanna is tied around his head.
Do you play? I ask.
“I used to, but times are lean.
I’m sellin’ the guitar ‘cause
I need the money.”
He says.
Then continues:
“It’s a Flying ‘V’—you know,
Hendricks played one,
The body is shaped like the
Letter V.”
Opening the case he gently
Fingers the neck:
“See, the neck was cracked.” He says.
“My woman—at the time—
Threw it at me across a
Parkin’ lot at me one night when
We were arguin’.
I had a guy fix it,
He did a good job, but
I’ll get less for it now.”
The shopkeeper unlocks the door.
In frayed jeans, hosting hungry pockets,
The man shuffles to the counter,
Then hands over this
Piece of His Soul
For negotiation.
D.J. Haslett
Copyright 2005
Audio Engineer: Scott Miller of Exit7a.com