blues traveler

I wonder your take on this, Janine.

Are you married with kids?

If not,

this corner coroner says you are

and if he has any, he's abandoned them.

There is no reconciling coast to coast-

I suppose.

You were young, at the very worst naive 

willing to listen to the music man on the street.

His skin was dark

your pale eyes blue

I bet your a*s was sweet 

his language smooth. 

There are few 

I'd spend a morning listening to,

for him I'd pull up a seat.

Listen to the ramble-

blather about my innocence,

your projected kids and life mate.  

Passer-by bring me joy,

my favorite the flying geese.

Even better a men that follows his own tune

when he takes his leave.

Blues traveler holds a box,

his harmonica,

the key.

A place in his heart for long lost lovers,

and my dollar

but not out of sympathy.  

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

i think you write your poetry with a scalpel