Underground Performance

Her outfit was a series of contradictions. Bare white arms protuded through a orange down vest. Shoulder length dreadlocks billowed out from under a cowboy hat. A purple skirt matched purple nail polish and purple contacts. An acoustic guitar hung on a strap over her shoulder and an open coffee can was on the ground before her feet. Once in a while, a commuter would throw in some loose change or a dollar bill while they waited for the next train.

I saw her as a I clambered down the subway station steps, rushing to make the express train that had just pulled in. I couldn't hear her singing over the rush of air and the click-clacking of the train tracks but I'd like to think I would have given her something too.