April 16, 2016 Poem #2

There is an old place by the river
Once a log cabin, now a nightclub
Where they never play rock, we can go there
Tonight and get the chicken dinner
And look out over the river till dark
And then up at the stars.

And wait for the three-piece band to play
American standards, like Misty and Torquay

Won’t play rock and roll, they just won’t do it

They keep everything cool and way down low
And the old people dance like people used to do

If that guy has his sax, it will be so fine
He plays like Coltrane, out of his mind
And John himself, who saw through time
Came back with music, rhythm, rhyme
What could be happier, what more sublime?

copyright 2016

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2 Responses to April 16, 2016 Poem #2

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