bob dylan in a skirt
i wonder was she the one
i gave money to at the
bedford/ north 7th street
stop?
she was singing a beatles song
and it sounded
soulful
or, maybe it was at grand
army plaza
as i was heading for the 3?
she was doing a motown ditty
i met her at union square
buying a jimi hendrix button
she believed he was
killed by a conspiracy
just like i believe
new orleans was killed by katrina
the bureaucrats let it die
so it could be disneyfied
into a playground for rich white people
like her, the radios
in my house were tuned
to different stations
my tastes beyond eclectic
she's got opinions
but, as my grandmother always said
" i'd rather have an opinion
than be an onion
maybe i'm weird
but i've stopped going to open mikes
sometimes, just writing poetry
is enough
next time i see her
i'll drop some money
in her guitar case
the kind that doesn't make a sound
i won't let her know
about my weakness for cute jewish girls
but that her song means something
to me