By Bill Coyle

The flautist of North Station,
playing Amazing Grace,
will get, for compensation,
some quarters in a case

on which, for sympathy,
he’s taped a picture of
his daughters, so that we
may see he plays for love;

may see he plays for free,
while someone in a suit
takes up the melody
our man plays on the flute

and starts to whistle it
as he departs the station,
bound for a world unfit
for any such salvation.


(c) 1995 by Bill Coyle; first printed in The Formalist; used by permission of
the poet.

Bill Coyle is a poet living in Somerville, Massachusetts.  Click here to visit his website.

Click here for more poetry by Bill Coyle.

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