Posted by: Jim | February 16, 2007

Last Dance

I can see by your smiling face that you’re not thinking about it.
I’m trying not to, but can’t.

The Stratocaster whines.
We spin and whir
Like cogs in a ticking clock.
My syncopated thoughts
Wobble right and left.
Like my clumsy, dancing feet.

Another patron billows in
With the worrisome wind.
You will be on a plane tomorrow.

I close my eyes and lower my head.
Just focus on the music.

And the band played, “Lord,
Ya gotta help meh ….
And I said, Lord,
Ya gotta help me.”


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