Bulletproof from MinuteHand by John Ludington

Hard soled shoes on a hardwood floor
7AM on a Sunday
I don’t worry about making noise anymore
The bar is set ten feet above me
There is a way beyond this routine tedium
Play everyday like a song
Try and make it sing
Play everyday like a song
Try and make it swing
Boy running laps through filthy pigeons
Swelling in the air
He tears at the fake evergreen on the railing
His dad doesn’t care
I want to muse from up inside the gazebo
Pose as a peevish old man
Cursing in Italian
Head like a prune; smells like a sandwich





What can I give now that I’ve been set free
It was easy to pretend when you were holding me
What’s left of my toolkit?
Now I know I’m not bulletproof anymore
Sold the guitar
Slept on a bench in the park
Poems in the rain
Sing till the neighbors pound
Rhythm on the wall
Thanks for the inspiration
Leapt in the dark
Swept up a broken heart
Frost on the grass of winters past
Melts in the January sun
Thought you’d be there to keep me laughing
That’s what I lived for
Walk off the glum, sing something, hack through a Bossa

• Folk
• quirky
• urban
• California