Wednesday night, after karaoke

Listen.

1:00 am

Main Street

Driving home from Wednesday night karaoke

and everybody was ON tonight.

Streets glassy with rain, shining wet,

clean

Stop lights, reflections stretch red … green … red

The RTA bus pulls up beside …

A lone woman rides

fluorescent lights shiver inside.

Long, green limousine.

The bar… earlier,

gin and tonic tall, with a lime.

Remember?

That man who sat at a table by himself,

turned to talk to me and wanted …

he wanted what we all want.

He asked me to please sing “Angel of the Morning,”

the Billie Davis version from the 60's, not Juice Newton.

He asked me to change the song I’d given to the DJ,

sing a song for him.

But I ….

I don’t do requests now --- closed for business.

Another night, I said.

He smiled and said, Yes, another night.

1:00 am.

Driving home from Wednesday night karaoke.

Jessica Williams playing Miles Davis on her piano and

I wonder why I don’t touch those black and white keys   

like I used to.

Those jazz chords so close

so tight …. they clash and resolve.    

They resolve….

I miss …. the jazz ... and you, but

the light turns green

rain mists the windshield …wipers on low,

legato.

I slide through the reflections of the night.

Main Street.

I could go anywhere and the name would be the same…

anyplace else, but I love this fucking city.

I could leave my fractured heart here on Main Street and run

and run…

But I won’t this time …. not tonight.

1:00 am.

Driving home.

Fucking Dave Chappelle showed up to sing karaoke

right after I left

again.

I don’t care.

The wipers

Coltrane

this city

this night

these shiny streets

red … green … red … green

home.

And Melvin, the alcoholic who lives across the street,

sitting on his porch smoking, drinking gin and juice,

he shouts, How you doin’, baby?

I’m fine, I say.

I know you are, he says. You are so fine.

I love you, baby. You know I love you?

I know you do, Melvin. I love you too.

Good night, baby.

Good night.