Walking towards High Street.
Passing underneath a window,
someone is tuning a cello.
I stop and shiver in delight.
Tell the boy, "This is why I love the city."
Bending my ear, I catch up the secret sound.
A siren in the distance,
a shout in the alley,
the sob of a cello,
so deep, so love love love.
A glazed eyed black woman
bunched up in a purple jacket
asks for a dollar.
I give it to her and her cracked teeth.
I give it to her and I give it to me.
This love love love,
this stomach punching fear,
this smile hidden behind my hand,
this sobbing cello,
this screaming man.
I take the hand of the boy.
"Follow me."
He follows and wonders and at my wonder.