Hallaluah Man
You never knew when he would show up.
He had a circuit of bars that he would appear in
But never a schedule
And strangely
He could be found all over the city.
He would arrive unannounced
And drop his piece of plywood on the ground
Right there in the middle of the bar.
And then he would dance.
That is when the magic happened.
He was an old black man...
I mean, coal black
With white pupils and teeth.
He was a good looking man
And he dressed
Well in suits and hats
And always had polished shoes.
When he got on that plywood
The smile and the feet never stopped.
He was a tap dancer primarily
And he was very good.
But even more than that
He was a showman
And he always gave an explosive performance.
He’d be tapping
With his arms flailing in sync
And he would go down to the ground
And do the crab
Or a b-boy shuffle
And pop back up on his toes
A la Michael Jackson.
That hat would come off his head
And do a stuttering wave down his back
To be popped inbetween his legs
And bounce off of his arms
And flip back up onto his head.
The spirit of James Brown moved through him
As he propelled the crowd into a raucous
Shouting “Amen people!” and “Hallaluah!”
His soul and energy passed through all that were witness
Transfixed with hair on end
And goosebumps.
And as the sweat beaded
Off of his velvet black skin
And fell to the skuffed plywood
Marking it like rainfall
He would recompose himself
Into a trance
Tapping softly
Until the finish.
And then the hat would come off
And flip upside down
As he looked up to heaven
And people would be cheering
Screaming “Hallaluah”
And clapping.
And then he would move through the bar
Holding his hat
As people tossed money in
And grabbed his shoulder
And the bar would buy him a drink
Which he would take
And wash the tumbler down in one gulp.
After that he would pick up his plywood
Turn and say “God Bless!”
And humbly walk out the door
Without another word
Into the dark city night
Leaving his spirit
There in the bar
With us
For just a while longer.
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