Music City

The wind rips through the buildings, the streets
as sound bounces off echoes. Mix matched,
doubled up, refried, intertwined.

It’s rock
It’s jazz
I’m happy

I want a steak, a bowl of lentil soup with a grilled
cheese or maybe a breakfast bagel sandwich.

It’s opera
It’s classical
I’m hungry

Homeless ragged and beat. I see them begging,
dumpster diving for something to eat.

It’s reggae
It’s country
I’m lucky

Cold steel beams atop rough concrete slabs,
asphalt covered bricks saturate the city’s landscape.

It’s rap
It’s metal
I’m angry

Moseyed through the tavern door, lost in the city,
grabbed a stool at the bar gulped flat draft beers.

It’s blues
It’s punk
I’m drunk