I had front row seats
that I didn't sit in
once he started playing
Close enough I could see the sweat
on his forehead, bangs in his eyes
deep in concentration
Close enough I could hear his pick
pause in that quiet between chords
ticking against the fret
Close enough I could see his boot toes
tapping against the side of his stool
keeping time with imaginary drums
I had front row seats
that I didn't really use
once he started singing
I remember every note,
I could feel every word