old lady

I left a coffee shop at dusk,

and I'm not sure if it was the triple shot espresso,

but i could've sworn I saw some festival lights clumped in a corner by the train tracks

it was an old lady!

there she sat in her lawn chair

playing the flute, 

and covered with grackles.

"do not worry, child, come, sit."

i don't know what it was 

her rumbling voice, her heavy demeanor

but when i found myself where i was at, in the dark night,

(and the nights have been really dark these days)

by this strange lady, i could do nothing but crouch 

besides her.

that's when she began playing her flute, 

in it a most distressing tune.

"do you know me?

there is another side to this

speak to me of love and kindness 

slow down, slow down

i just want to lie

down

lie down"

in heated fervor she got up so suddenly 

i knew not what to think but listen 

as her wide eyes sang,

"there is DAMAGE in these parts 

and it'll take a while for your breathing to

work

to work"

now, i know what you're thinking, 

how can she sing when she was blowing through the tube? 

well, I'm not sure if it was a flute after all. because as she blew with her mouth, her fingers moved over an invisible accordion and the sound that came out was her 

voice

and her Mexican dress drooped over the

bayou concrete, several moss peeking out from between the cracks played with the flaps of her dress 

like that she sat and sang, 

offering light to the darkness 

and though we exchanged no words, 

there was an unnamed understanding of

the joys 

of sorrow