He blew into
the studio
breaking all
the rules
smiling /shining
behind his shades
playing us for fools,
but just for fun
(the Show begun
with a hug
the size of Kansas,
demanding nothing
less than Love, always
take your chances)
in his hand was
a toy guitar
which he began
to tune, laughing
humming, picking
notes, coming into
bloom: he used
his tools
so out of school
he knocked about
and tapped,
and rattled chairs
and necklaces
making quite
a splash: the
audience was
now entranced
he played us
into the flow
nothing you
might recognize
what a way
to go, for soon it
was some Dylan
stuff, and then
a cool review
he did a show
of cover songs
in a high redux
of Master Bob’s
material, a very
high esteem
his performance
was applied
to something
like a dream,
we talked about
the art of him
and the art of me
and how we joined
it all together
in perfect symmetry,
and when we listened
to my audio book
he gave the mic
a second look, and
took some serious note:
the evidence of words
and music blended
into smoke, the charm
and soul and sexy scenes
were evidence of his skill
and beautiful serious
mind, something that he
hides from us, keeping up
that pride that goes
with steely drive
and years of fight
to stay alive, it’s not
an easy game, but he
has conquered life itself
with passion, skill
and fame, so when the
final signal had come
and we were closing in
on done, it seemed
to pass in moments,
we smiled and knew
to play the cue
and gently say
goodbye, laughing
out on the busy
street, under the
Cannery sky!


©J.W.WINSLOW 5/1/11