First Guitar by John Grey

somebody’s discarded guitar
was my sign

like a book of music
open to the first page

just sitting there
atop a box of old clothes –

before running my fingers
along its fretted neck,
I’d already chosen it
for my next twenty years

this drifting debris
of someone else’s old flood
washed up in a yard sale –

I slapped down my money
and grabbed that guitar’s waist

turned back
to the traffic

drove back home,
struck my new rock star stance in my head

looking up at the sky
from time to time
as if a storm had passed
and there ought to be a rainbow.

John Gray Copy
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Silkworm work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.
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