luminol

here we all are born into a struggle

to come so far but end up returning to dust

oxfam panache and tips his hat

he has no truck with idle chat

the songs he learned from scratched lps

stops in mid-flow to sip his tea

he strums the chords with less than grace

each passing year etched on his face

the words he sings are not his own

they speak of things he'll never know