Thursday, February 11, 2010

Davis St. Blues

Jazzy'z playin' blues 2 blocks down davis
Front 'n' Center
rustic vocals
a low barbeque fog fermenting
an' kickin' up as ee plays

Me tappin' keys
acquiesce to banality
as filigrees drift through
cigarette smoke blinds
mixing steam emanating
bore rain-water coffee

Tuesday afternoon always feels like morning
Jazzy'z noted denote the moaning
bucking typewriter clanks through the droning
of another cool fall mourning

blues hanging twixt
autumn orange brown leaves
and dropping.

We extoll
Jazzy 'n' I
as yet another sad letter
forms filigrees then floats
on the bellow of an old song with a whiskey tan
and tangential traffic swooshes
drowned in drawling deference.

"Damn Blues camn an' gotme again.."

He sings for eyes
a sight for a dime to may be paid

"Gotta make it through
these god-damn Davis St. Blues
another autumn another day."

Jazzy could play pulled pork out of his pocket,
and if it's pullin' pay from your's,
the shade of his day could change
but it's gray like cooking skin smog
like that empty restaurant
2 blocks down Davis

"Just another day, another fate for old songs
and their blue singers.
Jazzy don't even know,
we've been writing the same verse
over and over again
only to find
the world
a little less impressed by our accomplishments
a little more
by our failures."

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