Thursday, January 12, 2012

Wednesday night, after karaoke


1:00 am
Main Street
Driving home from Wednesday night karaoke
and everybody was ON tonight.
Streets glassy with rain, shining wet,
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.
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,
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
I don’t care.
The wipers
this city
this night
these shiny streets
red … green … red … green

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.


  1. I'm starting to think Dave's avoiding me. There's no need. I'd let him be the star for a night.

  2. Thanks, AutoD. I'm never sure when I throw up a late-night poem. You know how that goes.

  3. Nice....Mmmm. "....wipers on low,/legato...'

  4. Legato is mmmm in so many contexts. I may have to make a list......

    Thanks for stopping by, 'Zann.

  5. Replies
    1. Thanks, Ralf. I'm fortunate to have enjoyed many nights like this.