Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Tuesday Blues



Tuesday Blues are written in the sky 
with the last stars 
before dawn
Monday's Moon drawn well-nigh.

A place and a time you can't quite
remember
but you've dreamed of it so often
you've already been there.

A stooped house in a hurricane
that old bar by the slums.
It's dark and it's roaring
like a train ~ here it comes.

Tuesday Blues are written on
the walls;
the broken concrete underground,
a barrel over the falls.

It has a different kind of heart
than you or I
It breaks your free-fall
but won't let you fly.

Tuesday Blues are humid and hot
like the summer
in this city where you hustle big,
or you're not.

Tuesday Blues are wicked and strange,
a postcard
from a murderer
who wants out of their cage.

Tuesday Blues sing to get fed.
Like a poet
struggling
with ideas some think dead.

Tuesday Blues don't die, they just fade...
What other days forget,
Tuesday's got 
full in spades.




2 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

Very nice. This one really makes me think of New Orleans.

eric1313 said...

There's bound to be a Detroit-New Orleans connection.