The unexpected reappearance of don quixote

I step into a cold
and snowy boston morning
to meet my bus; inside, 
a toothless old man
loudly sings a long
forgotten venceremos song
from the spanish civil war

the faces of the passengers
are all tightly drawn,
some in fear,
some in disdain,
some in an effort
to maintain safely hidden
in their closed interiors

as i wiggle into place,
he yells out to me
across the crowded bus
"eres puertorriqueña"?
i contemplate for a split second
whether to enter into his world,
i look into his eyes and step in,
"si" i shake my head and smile,
"bueno mija estas para ti"

he closes his eyes for a moment
in a fitful effort to retrieve
a melody from the cobwebs
of his rusty rememberances,
and then begins to play
a perfect rendition of
"en mi viejo san juan,"
on a kazoo

the old familiar tune
warms my heart and brings
a smile to my face and to
the other boricuas who, now
cannot resist to smile, as well

it is in this unexpected
moment of delight that we,
the lost children of la perla,
experience community produced
by an old shabby fellow who
for all intents and purposes
would be diagnosed a raving lunatic

his song ends as he moves
to get off the crowded bus,
instinctively, i clap
and say “bravo maestro!”
he smiles, bows, and affirms
the courage of my spirit
(“tu si tienes valor”),
as he steps gallantly out
into the cold world,
once more.