Street Music (Dupont Circle)
Did I write about the street's beloved buskers and not recall the spirit of Hendrix found on my favorite Dupont Circle corner? Tonight, he twisted my spirit for a while; wrenching the essence of angels from a battered telecaster leaving me intoxicated beneath leathery leaves of magnolia on an indian summer night- seventy-four degrees made by the heat of nimble fingers Did I forget the soaring songs of ancient blues flying by my conscienceness on flaming wings, pouring out of one soul's troubles like holy water from the well of human pain? I drank the nectar of his emotion- poured on me like baptismal fire; tortured by the anguish of no coins to give as musical triumph filled warm night air I stood as a silent witness to ancestral power Written March 25th, 2002 © on Mar 25 2002 05:54 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Did I ..."