Sax Busker

I toss a coin
into the case
the central fountain
of the subway tunnel
While he pays his lip service
To the city –

Holding, in his lips,
The reed and brass which
Extends outwards only
Enough to keep me back
Before plummeting down
Where along the way he
Presses his fingers to speak

Until, at the right spot,
Instrument curving up
Coming in strong
The horn sings

Our anonymous poet has never submitted a poem anywhere before and thanks you, the reader, for giving them the motivation to polish up this one from one day when they were horny for a saxophone street performer.

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