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The Guitar Player


by Darryl Price


for Judee Sill

A girl is singing 
out on someone's digital 
screen. She seems 
to be saying, I 
don't care any more, 

but I care so very 
much, don't you know? 
Can't you tell? Her unloved 
lips form the words 
like they've been searching 

for the right time all 
her life to finally 
let them out. It 
hurts watching them escape, 
balloons losing air, 

leaving her playing 
guitar alone 
without them. Each one 
requires a sweet squeezing 
of her facial 

features into a 
silent agony 
that looks almost like 
an unexpected 
ecstasy at last. 

Her white embroidered 
peasant blouse hangs loose 
around her thin arms, 
little broken wings  
flowing, beautiful 

somehow in the setting 
sun. All that cruelty 
endured getting 
sadder before our 
cracking, spilling eyes. 

Her own rose-colored 
glasses hiding the 
barest, darkened eye 
lashes. Looks doomed to
fall against life's door.
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