And He Just Sang

The alternative among the folk purists,
I almost wore the Aladdin Sane tee
with the burgundy pants,
but reasoned that the material
could speak for itself.

A set sandwiched between
old school finger picking
railroad themes
and a trio
harnessing the ancient spirit
of early Appalachian mountain music.

A minimal crowd forms
and there is always a possibility
to divert from the blueprint of a plan
if you find disinterest,
to inject a tune familiar
to pander in the attempt
to win them over.

But today,
unlike other days
I am secure in my selections.

The first chord,
introducing my views of love,
scorched and still ready
to follow each lesson.

Without any adjustments,
I flow through eight songs
layered in confessions,
invented expressions
that ask to be sung.

Never to see a friend emerge from the crowd
beyond the supportive musicians
and the unsuspecting listeners.

But trusting in myself,
delivering a flawless forty minutes
accepting my vision.

It may be hard to wind down,
over twenty years of gigs
in bands, alone
and I finally get to taste
personal acceptance.