Monday, June 16, 2008
Waits
With a stomp, a shiver, and a milkless shake
The man on the stage tips his hat and grins
The crowd before him sways under a red brick quake
On the tips of his feet, he howls and spins
Before him lies a cloudy sea of clear eyes
A creek bed of 'he said she saids' and sandcastle skies
A heavy lidded ocean filled with lost lovers' cries
He owns this space like the hair does his face
Arms outstretched, fingers jingling invisible bells
His voice like gravel echo the miles he's done traveled
Bellowing out songs like pagans do witch spells
Howling at the moonless sky
Yelling hello; white whisper goodbye
The spies sigh; a skyless pizza pie
Blues tramp sins are raised up on high
Knocking forth and back the whiskey glass
Sour and sweet, the near distant memories pass
Stomping bodies and shaking hands make fists
Grinning, he bellows and croons with crossed wrists
The show, my friend, is coming to an end
The piano has been drinking and he isn't a friend
Big Black Mariahs and Raindogs unite
Because we'll be putting on the dog tonight
-AP 6/16/08
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