MUSIC MAN
WITH GRAY EYES
On the bus for people
with limps and lopes,
with wheelchairs and walkers,
with canes and crutches,
I saw a young man
whose gray eyes glittered
to a beat on the radio.
He pumps his fist in the air.
Music Man with gray eyes.
I wanted to talk to the Music Man,
but he lacked a language I understood.
Music Man, I wonder how I can communicate with you.
So, I watch you
and you watch me,
One day we stared at each other.
Your black curtain eyelashes raised and lowered
on the gray stage of your eyes
as you blinked and blinked
a Morse code
that began our first communication.
Music Man,
for months and months we communicated
through music and eyes
until one day I shared my name with you
and every day we rode the bus together.
Music Man,
to my amazement, you called my name.
I felt like a mother whose child called her “Mama”
for the first time,
Music Man with gray eyes.
Monique R.
