Joplin and Dylan, Cohen, Lennon and I fed on Lou Reed and McCartney, bled out the blues and used, always a part of me and it rips the heart out of me when the radio plays Lady Day.
Every beat and each bar tells me no matter how far I go or who I become, the words that were wrung out when being lonely and strung out remain in my brain.
If the night train don’t take me to Georgia
I may as well stay here
with the jukebox and warm beer
among friends that I think I might know.
Damn and blast the radio.
© 2016, John Smallshaw.