The Concert

She came in tonight a little nonchalantly
In the middle of a dedicated song
For a girl with a Jamaicain accent
Who promised to buy our songs online

She chilled in the back row
Boots up
Sweatshirt used as a napkin
She didn’t have a care in the world
 
I’d see my partner sneak her looks
But she wasn’t looking at his hands
Or at his pants
Rather at his fingers as they strummed his guitar
   
She look at the main singer
Watch his head shake to the song
Undress the girls in front of him with his eyes
Then watch his fingers play along
     
Then she’d fix her gaze on me
While she munched on her dinner
I knew she liked my music
She would tap her foot to my beat
       
When we stopped singing for a moment
She stopped paying attention
The other girls screamed for a look
She just forked her dessert
         
I couldn’t figure her out
This girl in the sweats
Maybe she was just comfortable
Or maybe she was in a relationship
           
I wanted to ask her name after the show
But I was thronged with twenty girls
Begging for a picture
Grabbing for a signature
              
And she quietly waited
And I struggled to survive
And the girls screamed
And suddenly I heard her voice
               
“Oy!” She yelled - she must be British!
“Anyone else need a picture!?” I’m mistaken
She was trying to be helpful but no one would listen
But me, the forgotton drummer of the band
                  
She didn’t buy our collaborated CD
This girl with the laid back demeaner
Humming to our three chords in harmony songs
Leaving tonight with a smile that I’ll forever be chasing