Poem for Sunday, May 23, 2010

A Thought in Memphis

The Blues have been collecting dust for
years
in Malcolm Bart's record store
on Beale

I'm starting to think Lightnin' Hopkins
didn't die of cancer
but suffocated in a plastic bin
choked
on "Lonesome Dog Boogie"

Oh, anyone can walk that street
in Memphis
gulp that BIG ASS beer
snapshoot
their sunlit faces beneath the
half-glow of neon signs

Anyone
can backflip for bucket change
distribute food flyers
go back to their hotel and
claim to have had
some revelation

But only a bluesy few
give a damn
about Malcolm's
about Lightnin' and the rest
about anything besides
an Elvis snowglobe

(no offense
to the King)