Stockholm

By Jackie Bernardo

He could have been
a common man,
selling
charming lines and flat
sheets of
advertisements on the streets of a
city, but then he
picked up.

He could
have had the kind of face that you
forget when you
see quickly in a
crowd, but then he told his
story like a
cusped black and white photo that wrestles
with the coin on the guitar
strings. He could have been
another type of scarred blink that
wonders how to hold an.

But he
already knew about the way
of singing through,
touching a chord without having to
say much to the crowd. He knew already
before he could think about

When he has the
rings on,
He presses gently, on the
center like he is concentrating
on a woman. Such a
handsome,
respectable fire.

Like the way he is
unsure if he is making it
match his sleeves and
rings. But knowing and
shaking into the

Blues, as the stand is
the same length as him. To be
as romantic as the drumming on
his easy feeling. As
the collar on his shirt moves to
match his hand.