sang
a town full of music
each mouth shaping its own song
1. but your key agrees with my ears
the bend of the note, that lilt--
everyone sings in Philly, has a sound,
hums a ditty sweeping trash
whines nicknames of familiar faces
smiles from the neck, never the lips
the staccato laugh
against the breeze
that's been here
since right before Here
was a here
came with them, in their grandmother's pea green luggage
reinforced with masking tape and wide-eyed dreams
songs that nearly had the shit beaten out of them
sounds of the strangled throat
notes that originate in overused wombs and hearts that have been scraped clean
passages of music that trace bruises and welts we never discuss
we just sing around those, here
2. This
is a city
that traps echoes
plants them in the cracks of the sidewalk
still, they grow pretty. yellow
against the unidentifiable brown-grey spit-colored slabs of concrete
shoves them arrogantly in sewer holes on the corner where confusion ave meets chaos blvd
next to empty Doritos bags and lollipop wrappers that never found a trash can
gathered in the rainwater inside rusted Coke cans
bent like the last generation of old women who still smile at strangers
everyone has a song
and nobody's listening to the melodies
but me
I've found yours
here
that winding tune in a melodic
minor
an unassuming motif that repeats so
subtly,
I did not even recognize that you were singing
until
my left leg would not keep still and my head tilted
right
as if to hear you better and see you for the first time
yours is a sweet one,
that song, that story
bearing the hum
of the interstate
and the weight
of all the things
you carry
