Bret Hoveskeland is a writer and editor living in Orlando, Florida. He is an active member of the local literary scene. His publications include a collection of poetry, The Oxytocin Opera, fiction in journals like Red Weather and Definitely Magazine, and various articles for West Orlando News Online.
COPYRIGHT 2016 LITERARY JUICE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Too young to worry this much about money.
Maybe ten or eleven.
Will play chords laced with twang and tin,
For food and Euros.
Won’t say one word
To tourists on the metro.
Language may be a barrier.
Let the smudged keys do all the talking.
Let lilting sound waves frisk eardrums
From the next car down.
Then a swish of doors and cool air,
Opening and coming, and suddenly,
she is standing still in front of you.
Blackened fingers traveling faster than the train.
Small plastic cup tied to the accordion’s
Scratched side surface.
Brown paint faded to the color of dry Greek sand.
Childhood wonder worn out its welcome
In the house inside her dark eyes.
Fingers fumble through the basics,
Fan expanding and falling like lungs.
Little girl, looking for work,
Supporting the weight of your family and country’s finances. Hold your banks up with the power of your thin arms.
Collect the coins,
Clinking against a reedy tremor.
Put them in your pockets,
and move on to find the next tourist.
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