One weekend afternoon
my brother and I
were walking in
Central Park.
We sat down at a group
of chairs to take a break.
It had to have been
in the late 80s or
early 90s because
he was finishing
school in NYC
and I was visiting
from DC.

We looked up and saw
a musician in a white suit
carrying a guitar
walk up onstage.
I remarked that
it looked a lot like
David Byrne from
The Talking Heads.
My brother got a huge
grin and said
it was David Byrne.
And he proceeded to play
to a tiny, tiny audience
with my brother and I
in the front row.
For free.
Unannounced.
In Central Park.
Because he could.

That’s what he said
when he stopped to
say hello between songs.

By that point there were
hundreds of people watching,
listening,
dancing.

The Tangerine Dream
came onstage at one point
too,
singing,
dancing,
playing music.

It was surreal.
Like a scene from
Brigadoon.

Only it was real.