Three pairs of blues
inside out and wadded
crumpled at the bedfloor
Eight left shoes
different heights
for different faces
heaped in the corner
and I'm ready to go...
dressed in tried and trues
and that damned
concrete block
I'm growing quite
accustomed to.
The barstool
six from the right
leans
on wooden knees
a black plethera
valentine
that whispers
"be mine...
when you're
breathless"
when you've had
your fill
of them.....
And I'm off....
Fridays are for dancin'.....
inside out and wadded
crumpled at the bedfloor
Eight left shoes
different heights
for different faces
heaped in the corner
and I'm ready to go...
dressed in tried and trues
and that damned
concrete block
I'm growing quite
accustomed to.
The barstool
six from the right
leans
on wooden knees
a black plethera
valentine
that whispers
"be mine...
when you're
breathless"
when you've had
your fill
of them.....
And I'm off....
Fridays are for dancin'.....
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11 comments:
You got rhythm
you got rhyme
you got an urge
and now
you have the time.
Peace and love, Singleton.
Fridays are for dancing.
clink!
No late nights tonight, but the "house is a rockin'" and
my ride is on their way....
I can hear the band
warming up from here.....
Cast don't fail me now!
One last spin
one last dance
one last drink
the last of many
tonight
And tomorrow,
we'll do it all
one more time
"I don't like it here anymore"
he muttered,
and she nodded....
the people
drifting
shifting
down the bar
makeshift smiles
and wanna~bes
and maybe~me's
and I smiled
with sympathy
at their passing thoughts
their last five on the countertop...
and wished them
laughter
on the rocks....
"I love this bar",
I clinked them
on my way out the door,
and because they're
looking
grasping
needing,
they'll never understand....
why I smiled
when I shimmied
past them
How wonderful to know,
that even when our spirits have danced our bodies to that tired place where we feel as though we can't dance anymore...
there'll be that black plethera valentine whispering 'Be mine...when you're breathless'.
And maybe in the silence between the notes...
We'll find that unseen comfort we've been longing for.
Invisible arms gently propping up our tired bodies, butterfly hands that know how to soothe the nameless ache that hides inside the ache...
And we'll say 'Where have you been all my life?'
And the mystery will kneel and kiss our hand
and urge us to our feet once more.
Love, M
Wish I had seen you last night.
But there is always tonight.
Find a way to wave, to clink, to get my attention. I'll be there. Let me know and I'll come a runnin'.
I'm here!
Clink!
You have a good night?
Maithri.....That was beautiful! You captured the essence of it all just perfect, the night in a butterfly net!
Eric...I lost you last night somewhere between 8 mile and Hippie, somewhere in the Lost Blues.....
Peace~love, Sundays, my friends
I saw you there in the street light
fog,
at the traffic light air drumming,
at the corner store buying
cigarettes,
waiting in line
behind the lotto queen
and the Mama with
babies with dirty feet....
I saw you there....
Waiting...
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