Busking on the bridge at Footscray Station.

I'm not much of a poetry guy but i read this poem on the train while goin to a game and absolutely loved it.Its called 'Busking on the bridge at Footscray Station' and its by Peter Davis, a 42 yr old Bus Driver from Sunshine.
The wind rhymes with the sounds of their pants brushing against their legs.
The music must shift to a higher register whenever the diesel trains roar.
And my free to anyone miniature chapbooks of poetry and flute perhaps alter by one second a real hour's beat.
I'll try to hit the bum notes with the same amount of pleasure as the perfectly played ones.
Hit a fast thrill when the coins land.
The most regular givers are the most recently arrived immigrants.
So i wonder, as i play my flute, about the other people who are playing instruments with bare feet on dirty streets for different sounding lands.
With a cloud to guide each note,
With a train track in my throat.