Alive
At the sight of love
No gender, no color
No religion
Alive
At the sight of love
In sight of simplest thoughts
Believing
Two souls blending
Blending into a society
A society that sees all
Until all have blended as one
Until one is accepted
As all.

You strum the strings of my heart with your fingers' gentle touch.
You change the sound of my melody with the firmness of your clutch.
You tune the sadness out of my soul.
You fill me with your rock n' roll.

Please, Oh please don't strum too hard
Or else you'll leave me marred.
For I only have these set of strings
To make my love for you sing.  

Dear player of mine,
Don't be fooled by the shininess of my pine.
My strings have reached their peak,
I am not the guitar your talent should seek.

This takes place on a rooftop above the city
Almost twangy, almost

Stars are out, and boy, are they ever strong
The sweetest lullaby of a love song
Sung to me from your fingertips
Patetico

Strumming the notes as you would a lover
Best friends turned to endless memories
Perfect, soft whispers
Harmonies that make me listen so close
I don't want to miss a thing

Breathing in the calmest wind-- your air
Sospirando
Coming together with a melody that grows
Two bodies unified as one loud symbol--
Crescendo, dolcissimo, fortepiano, melting gelato  

Rosy reds and the palest clouds
Awakening both hearts, not a dream
You tighten your grip and beg me not to go
Ostinato

As long as you keep singing from your fingertips
Appassionato
And if those hands are your outlets
Bravura
I’ll stay here
Al fine

I don’t want to perpetuate the produce – consume loop
but when I don’t, I feel like such a lazy moocher
Could I play guitar near after dark bars for $23 an hour?
Victor and I did that once, for $11.50 each
Untaxed, that’s better than my dour real job
So, if I really made my place at a street corner, I’d be a smart earner

But then I’d be a fixture, like the accordion man and the bums with PVC buckets
The bar goers would soon hate me for chumping them out of their cash
with three gritty “Heart of Gold” covers
Then soon the mediocre bums would jump me and Riot, my guitar
She’ll smash into the walk under a Irish flag in front of Murphy’s Law,
while drinkers whoop and punch the air
The bucket goes over my head
and the accordion bellows squeeze round my neck

Night dreams
Of death, of mask, of wings
Laughing day you fear
Unlike stars in heavens
Arrayed and proud
Playing guitar

music hollows
out an empty
heart and plays
its strings.

© Ben Ditmars 2014