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I did my time
sitting on uncomfortable stools
in smoky coffee bars
playing guitar
and doing
enthusiastic covers
of Kristoffersen
McClellan
and Tom Paxton
for money in the jar
and all the cheap wine
I could drink.

 

I regularly practised
new chords
some even minor
to make myself more popular
money never an issue
only acceptance

 

I loved it all
shit-scared
every night
elated
depressed
but always alive
and hoping desperately
for an encore

 

I even did Neil Young
and Gordon Lightfoot
one adventurous evening
after some Jack

 

but one night
after too many cheap wines
and a couple of joints
I realised that
I would never be anything
but a second-rate

 

passer of people’s time