(An ode to Boston street musicians)

Perform to sidewalks

caked with forgotten humanity

—crushed styrofoam cups, burger wrappers, cigarette butts—

Sneak concerts

in pavement cracks;

Kintsugi through music.

Demand the space for your beauty. 

For if you stop,

who else will I listen to 

on a windy Thursday night 

waiting for the T at Chinatown?

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