Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing


Visibility  Someone must have seen me sitting there, spitting cherry seeds into a plastic baggie, shoes off, cross legged, and glistening  in the thickness of St. Louis humidity.  I laid down on the quilt protecting my clothes from grass stains and pulled a book from my purse. I estimated I could read about a chapter before the next band started their set.  I tuned out the cacophony of intoxicated friends, the thousands of couples  and families and besties camped out on the lawn of the amphitheater. I muted their chatter as if dialing down the volume in my car, driving my attention anywhere I wanted, sneaking peaks at the sky over the rim of my book, not caring how many people didn’t see me lying there, alone at a concert at peace with my own ego, so nonchalant in my solitude, that the issue of visibility floated away  with every lyric and every movement  and every heartbeat of freedom screamed from the silence of no one beside me.


Poetry and music.

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