Chicago Noir

blues tribute to Motherwell

Western Ave: leaving the blue line
I cant name the tune
the National Steel guitar and street trafic
are playing but I remember dancing to it.
Her hip, right side, the near back,
above the waistline a tattoo
of black ink; the shoot ofirises
I've held in my hands.

Aman doesn't know anything
until he's breathed air at least 30 years-
what he knows then
is that he knows nothing. I am not
the priest ofthe modern drama
but I can tell you every mistake
I think I've made. My qualified heart
has been going off like a car alarm.

Doctor Feelgood says Imay get better,
baby just not sure I'll ever be well.
I thought this alluring woman was gone.
Gave her logical reasons to leave
a middle-age man. The concern,
she's almost too-much younger,
a million shades of blues have been sung
about being in such a situation.

In the dim golden light of Rosa's club,
during the whiskey solo and complements
of smoke and harmonica,
I lean towards her. She's been waiting
for this and comes to meet me.
The amazing glory of now, our mouths,
just one of her ways in proving
that the main rule of love is to not be dead.