I stood and listened to him play in loops. Mesmerized and paralyzed, I was unaware of the arrival of the express and local trains that could’ve taken me home sooner. I eventually gave him a five dollar bill—call me silly. I’ll always wonder why people never stand to indulge and admire. Perhaps it’s the New Yorker stereotype, where chump change is deposited and then you walk away.
I wish I had taken one of his cards. It’d be nice if someone can find out his name for me.