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Wharton's Blues
by
Joseph Hughes |
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Wharton’s Blues
Grounded at the base of the old radio tower
his warm summer breath dances
amidst the beacons beating scarlet into the night
blue-eyed notes blown from a plated horn
cratered horn
a split reed
bound to squeak
No one cares if your Cadillac has bald tires
you can’t make the tread when this car goes by
down the Speedway or, maybe, Soldier’s Field
past the bricks blinded white by crumbling ivy
I’m a man out of time, he once confided
a time of the course groove
hear the sound that slips like a breeze into your heart
grasp it firmly as the bars go by
twelve, twenty-four and thirty-two
Don’t you know that this song is for you?
A storm passes the radio tower.
The guys crackle.
Doom jumps the spark gaps.
My heart is like obsidian, he said.
shining, loving black
solid, loving black
Sometimes, I still feel his presence.
at night when the city fog does its salty dance on a blue lit street
I hear a distant horn
a cratered horn
Joseph Allen Hughes 2014
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--Submitted by jahughes436 on 2014-11-20.
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