we were stranded
in a square
where the musician
fingered an erhu
coaxing from two strings
that never meet haunting
vocalisings tho we didn't realise
the ambassadorial value of
the artful bowing
that teased the threads
to harmony while hoping for
the ping of a coin
tossed into the open
invitation to converge.
punctuated by the dinging
of the mercantile thunk
that seemed to be the reason
for all music , still
there was a delicacy we
understood in plein air
but closed to interpretation
we chose under it's influence
a direction, from the intersection
and remembered the tune that played
when destination wasn't critical and
and the choice of streets
that never meet
remained
underplayed