Senor blues danced on Mama's grave
while they kept us busy.
The peppermint girl and the grandfather's
saying 'a thing like that could harm you',
and the others running round and round,
laying her down in that cool dark earth.
Despair has a nasty smell but it's high and fine
after a decent silence.
And back then I was brand new for sure.
Old ladies with alligator purses
dropped coins in my palm with a polite distance.
Their grey eyes followed my every move,
afternoon rainbows everywhere.
I looked away and avoided thinking about the huge coffin.
We walked past the cemetary
while the bass nursed the tune along.
Every vibration coming straight from the universe.
He was shooting the breeze about the blues.
'Sit long enough and the whole world passes you by'.
He said: 'You don't own the music, it comes through you'.
And twenty years later,
there's just the peppermint girl and the grandfathers.
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
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