Buskin' Blues

Inner city subway
in the pouring rain,
punters putting money
in my pot again.
Cold-tile, natural reverb,
draughty, empty place.
Shopping-laden housewife,
grimace on her face,
a glance in my direction,
a guilty look away,
a lack of comprehension,
another filthy day.
I try another favourite
that meets with no reply
then put my old guitar away
and bid the streets goodbye.

- by Prajna Pranab, 1994