Heading to a Gig

Heading to a Gig

He stands beneath a stop sign…

            …waiting for his ride.

He tugs his jacket tighter…

            …to leave the cold denied.

He left one gig behind him…

            …with one left on the side.

A six-string in his hand, now…

            …some music in his head.

Just waiting for a bus, now…

            …until he walks, instead.

And when the sun lies low, now…

            …he’ll know the day is dead.

Put one foot on the sidewalk…

            …and now it’s time to roam.

Playing blues inside a gin joint…

            …beneath a neon dome.

And when the clock strikes 3AM…

            …he’ll finally make it home.

The Chanteuse

Chanteuse

Awash in the dim light of fading red candles,

I sat ‘round the rickety table,

Dizzy from the thick aroma of stale whiskey

Caked on the walls of the dingy speakeasy.

“Bum-buh-Bum-Bum” thumped from a towering upright bass

To the percussive “CRASH-BOOM-BOOM-CRASH-CRASH,”

Accompanying the jangling ebony and ivory “Chunk-a-Chunk”

That shook the audience from their shimmying stools.

But I only had ears for her… the chanteuse.

Her soulfully raspy voice, full of enchanted possibilities,

Electrified the midnight hour;

Delicately vulnerable… powerfully commanding.

I listened raptly… in love from the very first note.

Her trembling timbre rocked me;

Her quavering moans of passionate longing

Sent shivers through my hungrily stirring soul.

Our eyes met for an infinitesimal heartbeat

And I dreamt a little dream;

We both were alone in that smoky club

And she sung her serenades just for me.

Her Face

Her Face

A drunk, defeated, tortured fool,

Lost in a smoky neon place,

Drank to make himself forget

The glow of her resplendent face.

He had her and so he had it all

Her warming love, his lady of grace,

But warmth was doused by bitter cold

That coolly pained her haunted face.

He brought that pain upon his love

He cheated and lied, to his disgrace

Betrayal reflected in her brown eyes

Rivers streamed down her twisted face.

He had her, he lost her; he lost himself

To whiskey’s fluid, numbing embrace

The bottle emptied, glass after glass

But at the bottom, he found her face.

Blind with drink, he stumbled onward,

Swerving from his parking space,

He turned; two lights came thundering toward him

And at the end, there shined her face.