The tattered mesh trucker hat.
The spectacles.
The wormhole earrings.
The beef-jerky gait.
The old school Amperite microphone.
The smouldering cigarette tucked in the fret-board.
The timber-wolf howl of harmonica.
Viola. Cello. Violin.
And that voice.
Man-oh-man, that voice.
Slowly dripped through 10 feet of charcoal
and gift-wrapped in a honeycomb of nicotine.
Tonight's a good night to have ears.
www.micahphinson.com
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