A reviewing critic

I’m standing in a sea of strangers

amidst a nightlife that is alive and well.

Up there on stage, we see eye to eye

the girl who sings about a guy

playing a guitar, alone in a freezing garage.

Today is a special day, she announces,

the strangers yell for another song.

It’s clear, broken love has a trigger,

as most struggle to see the girl

who’s on stage,

admitting that track number 6

is a little too personal

for her first album.

She apologizes, and then belts it out.

I don’t want you tonight.

With a country Hillbilly whine

she can’t have us around tonight.

Her voice wails high above us all,

the hundred or so different conversations

acoustics in this sleepy coastal bar

struggle to separate her lyrics

from this guy talking about his motorcycle.

The crowd seems a little uninterested

as the girl on stage sings her first album.

She asks, who has seen them before?

Our response is lukewarm.

Now to the cover song for her dad,

it’s only now her voice comes alive

with Elvis’ Burning Love.

With that momentary jolt of excitement,

the girl goes back to an original song,

the crowd starts back up with their conversations

and I’m out and gone.