A story of the singing gut
grace gutekanst
Strolling down Savannah streets
covered in moss-blown trees
and warm air balancing
between ancient buildings
and a southern beach that whispers to the
grains inching there way to foam lips
I'm not supposed to be alone
He told me he'd drive me home safely
I don't need safety
I focus on signs
while my feet chant to each other
after the other
after the other
after the other
Music starts and stops in my head
I'm singing loudly
It's 3am
But even the street can't hear me
My arms swing
to help my elbows forget they exist
And..
"Nice voice beautiful" shouts out
There's no one on the street.
I continue to sing.
Then I look up
to find blue eyes