El Flaco Del Bondi
Tabaré Cardozo
The Skinny Guy on the Bus
With his back against the metal of the aisle
And the noise of engines and horns
With the pick and the riff in his pocket
And the strings about to snap
With people looking away
And the remnants of a badly hurt throat
Among elbows, bumps, and sudden stops
He's a bird in his metal cage
The skinny guy who sings on the bus
Has skin that's toughened up
If some clap first
The others clap too
He feels out the vibe
If it’s good, he’ll sing one more
Smiling as he passes the hat
And gets off at the back door
With the bass of the crickets soaked
Three coins in the case's envelope
With his soul and pride armored
Like a tank of spiritual warfare
With old but flashy clothes
A flask to warm his throat
A bohemian and scoundrel's charm
And a flower pinned to his lapel
The skinny guy who sings on the bus
Has skin that's toughened up
If some clap first
The others clap too
He feels out the vibe
If it’s good, he’ll sing one more
Smiling as he passes the hat
And gets off at the back door
