Seen On Seventh Avenue

On a Sunday circus stroll With my favorite court jester Jaywalking through laughter And a million Manhattan mannequins The sea of people parted To unveil a curious sight In silver sequined spandex bodysuit Like a Cirque De Soleil spinning acrobat A man, perched high atop An antique oversized front wheeled bicycle Dangling his makeshift tip cup A plastic fishbowl, from a rod Behind him, pulling a harp with no strings I noted he truly had no strings attached To the mouths, gapping open The shutters clicking from tourists cameras Trying to make sense of his show Tried as I did to blend into the backdrop His eyes found me as if with radar He waved wildly, shouting for me to stop And let me hear his serenade In all the traffic Why pick me.... I could not help but smile As he strummed a ukulele With absolutely no talent Singing 'Tiptoe Through The Tulips' Before pedalling past the noon hour