What’d he sound like?
Like sin and salvation all rolled up and howling.
Like a woeful train passing a twilight city and moaning into a new night.
Like a choir psalm built from parole violations.
Got hobo fire eyes and tales no mortal should know in such detail.
Told me don't take too much stock in reality. It's just a collective hunch anyways.
I'm a busker and I like your poem.
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