Poetry For Everyday People

The Band

One of us
would eventually
gravitated to the kitchen
table, grab a cold beer
and sit down, stick in
some Albert King, grab
a guitar,

soon, everybody in the house
that was home would be there,
cold beer, kitchen table, young
friends, discovering, ready to
let loose, a buzz short of asking
the questions that hunt, all the
things we don't understand, how
much we love Jimi, B.B., Buddy,

we'd drink, feel it, confess,

the rest of the roommates coming
home from their various jobs, schools,
probation duties, we'd all party all
night, play music all night, tell each
other of all the things killing us, besides time,
besides not really knowing,

and always two of us would stay up the latest,
the two drinkers, the two philosophers,
the two most in need of answers, we'd
drink, go from Albert King to Muddy waters
to Miles, smoking Marley smoke, getting deep
as cotton, watching the sun rise from the highest
point we could find (usually a tree),

no guards left, stripped to the bone
honest, following proudly in the footsteps
of those who left us a map of hipness, coolness,
blessed we found music.


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The Band

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