The accordion guy is here again. He
says his name is still Michael, and I
say that's good. It's like he owns all
the bricks along this street, or at least
they know him. Seventeen minutes
of fame in seventeen years of the
game. Who wants that? And why?
No one's ever really dug an accordion,
since like Poland had an Army. Even
if they said they did, they weren't
quite telling the truth - about the
accordion, not the Army. Which I
don't know anything about. I guess
they did, or do, have one, or had.
Poland has borders right? And all
those years of Warsaw pact stuff.
Well, anyway, let me move on - the
guy named Michael is back again,
and, as I noted, he still has his
accordion, and he's pretty much again
at the same old stoops and doorways.
Like it used to be, since I last saw.
That boatman's hat he puts out, it
still gets money ; more dollars now
than even quarters, which used to be
a lot for him. Now, I suppose, most
everything's changed and all that as
well. Even cereal's like five bucks a
box, right? So who in good conscience
can just walk away leaving but a coin?
Better to leave nothing than depart red
of face. That's an opinion, but don't
get me wrong, I give him nothing. He
can keep his old silly music.