A Story

In the beginning it was

naked, rainy nights with Ali Farka
juts and pinches in the chords
volumes in every breath.
Mornings were spent
spent in my cramped apartment
steeped in wet lilacs I’d picked
and black coffee, some Peggy Lee.

In the middle it was

patterns, all patterns
familiar maps, familiar shifts
the monotone ‘I love you’.
Cat Stevens lay hushed in a box,
sleepy but not as asleep
as the older Lady Day.

In the end it was

the compilation of all
those nights you jolted awake
from a dream of falling–
eyes wide open in a strange bed,
remembering who you were;
Driving away in the night
letting Bob Dylan speed up the truth.

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7 thoughts on “A Story

  1. Amy, This poem is just lovely. The musical references throughout are wonderful, but this:
    steeped in wet lilacs I’d picked
    and black coffee, some Peggy Lee.

    It took me back instantly to mornings in cabin outside Crescent City, CA. I’m loving this memory in this moment. Thank you.

    Like

  2. as a day tripping tourist i walked through your weblogs making photos left and right. Then you triggered me with “naked, rainy nights with Ali Farka”
    This passed blues giant and storyteller is one of my idols when i am dreaming and writing with my guitar, with my mind.
    I’ll come back !

    Like

  3. beginning, middle, end…
    you are very well organized poet.

    vivid capture and fabulous word flow.
    🙂

    Like

  4. When I first started reading here and your arrangements of the famous poets before and then I clicked on a name and just got a repeat of the first page, I formed the idea that there may not be much here. Wow!, what a mistake that would have been,
    Great depth here and careful examination between the lines is its own trip. On to the next one.

    Like

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