some more memphis stuff
That Day on Beale Street (4/4 time)
Rain shower rain night,
we're alright. Kinda
tired, that's all.
The band is playing, the
crowd ain't paying, despite
the looks of the front man,
he's there for the music
He's not mad. And anyway
they're happy to be sad.
Playing hag instruments, guitars
that droop and sag their shoulders
drum kits that lay about like piles
of windswept boulders,
smegma atomic saxophones, mostly
the harmonica man who
breaks it all up like a
novelty cup. He talks into the
reeds and valves, something about
that dollar store train sound.
Did you ever play an instrument,
friend asks me. No,
I lie dead seriously.
-J.G. (me) - www.jonathongrimes.com
I Can't Believe I Live Here
My Love is busy helping people.
What shall I do but watch
her go, as a flower's petals strip
from the tree, falling to a graceful end.
If only I had some habbit.
I resolve to smoke, as I watch her go.
Your car is sputtering blue oil fumes
at me, as you drive away in the cold
I stare from the cover of the carport
tired sun going home out west
where are you going
where am I going
I'll see you soon.
In the here and now of this connectionless
living. Memphis is basted and turned over
to get more flavor.
Citysmoker, hosted by the jollyAlRoker,
But it's just more WalMarts, and Olive Gardens.
Then in the eyes of the department store Johnsons
Tamiquas and hooknosed Flannigans
is that calm cool
"Why you lookin at me?"
It's laughably easy.
to be kind. None of us will ever venture.
Take today's offender,
last week mowing lawns, watching who goes on vacation
Two weeks worth the salary from selling
fifty pounds worth the Hitachi and Hewlitt Packard
At least he didn't shit on the floor.
He catches his end in the rain. Falls hard.
waterdrops turning to steam on the concrete
he caught the evil eye of someone
I looked at earlier, maybe.
I like to think the thief and the nobody
ogled the same ass on the same silly broad
we passed the same body over with
lecherous eyes. Only he had things to do,
and I had the sense to window shop.
He broke into the next home, with an old
man in it, and old arm clutching an even older '38.
Out stealing third.
The cops kicked his arm over the threshhold.
"There you go, pop, it's a legal shot now.
"Donchu go telling no one what we just done."
"God bless you, Officer."
See it as a town of rape, theft, murder
music, passion, filth, and miracles
The people sway back and forth in the
pews of the Memphis Churches
where faith and dharma means loosing control
I look at the Pyramid from an office window
I should be working. Instead I see
a barge boat pushing ore up north, and I wonder
where boatmen get their groceries, and what
it's like to sleep on the river.
I'll never know, because
I don't care enough to find out.
Day over. Two hits, one man left on base.
I am a monkey swinging from cat-5 cables
I am an ape jumping on sturdy plastic tables
I'll throw shit at you, if you look at my face
I'll turn human again, if you promise not to look.
Praise Jesus, Jon's healed, hallaluya.
Moon I can't see you over roof of Rum Boogie.
Kee and Me brush past the armpits and the
sandals and shoes of Beale Street
New Years eve
countdown, a kiss, chilly air, black sky.
Black sky heaven, black city trying
to get somewhere on trolly wheels.
I wish you well. You'll never let me in,
and I'll never adopt you. But
it's been real, Memphis.
The city I sleep in.
-J.G 2003 (www.jonathongrimes.com)
