Spaceships make great music but not everyone is into wooshes and bass waves that throb like the intersection with foot traffic — perfect for singing Johnny Cash cover songs and maybe jumpstarting my songwriting career. I wonder why I feel so odd worrying about legalities of busking. Is a permit really necessary? Researching city laws with cordless earbuds that work surprisingly well for spaceship sounds is somehow meditative and dripping with anxiety. The boiling sugar water gets too hot and froths out and over and down and splatters and pools next to a toddler who doesn’t yet know burns. Please someone turn off the stove and postpone this life lesson. NO now go learn what we all know and get it over with. Please PLEASE get it over with. The anticipation is palpable but not in a good way. We need this. We need every child to hurry and burn and shock and screech and silently struggle for enough air to scream and scream and get attention and be comforted by a crying parent who says repeatedly, “I’m so sorry.” Sorry, we will be in a good place soon. Tend your skin while we wait.
ryan meyer art rapid prose poem 1