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.
