The bucket drummer
plays the same beat every night
which I notice as I walk by
the corner of 42nd and Broadway
hearing his plastic rim shots
and salad bowl pings
ricochet off the billboards
like rhythm shrapnel
played at the same tempo too
an optimal groove
showing off his handiwork
keeping our attention aloft
out-noising the noise
but the thing about the beat
that cuts through consciousness
is its sameness
which reminds you how here you are too
walking by this corner again
and again and again
listening and expecting
some variation
without thinking anything new.
brettworks 
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