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On Hearing Buddy Guy






On Hearing Buddy Guy



After the blistering show
at a south side blues club,
            (the real thing,
            not one of those downtown joints
            that cater to the tourists)
I step out into the humid night air,
walk the six blocks to my car,
still feeling the joy
that Buddy Guy
can squeeze out of so much pain.

I’ve been warned
this is a rough neighborhood.
But music takes the edge off
and my walk is solo smooth,
accompanied by the drumming
of others’ conversations,
and that brass buzz of beer in my head.

There are a few dark shapes here and there,
huddled under blankets.
And a cop car rolls slowly down the street,
eyes and guns on high alert,
as if 2.00 a.m. is a crime.

It’s not a crime, boys.
It’s a revelation.



John Grey

  


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5 Comments

  1. this publication should publish more musical-oriented works...really prefer those to some of these things you dwell on.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ms. Samuels, glad your health is returning and welcome back to the journal. We have published a few musical-oriented works and would welcome more. As for the other things that is a product of diversity of viewpoint that we welcome as well. Happy to have you back in the fold. M.A.R.

      Delete
  2. Having seen Buddy +13, this poet hit the nail on the head in terms of Guy’s effect

    ReplyDelete
  3. Having seen Buddy +13, this poet hit the nail on the head in terms of Guy’s effect

    ReplyDelete
  4. Having seen Buddy +13, this poet hit the nail on the head in terms of Guy’s effect

    ReplyDelete