Chicago
The plane put me down
on the fret
of a finely tuned
Stratocaster
and the blues rose
through every nerve in my body.
The ‘L’
carried me the length of the neck
changing chords
until Muddy Waters
ran through my veins.
The streets welcomed me
in AAB rhythm.
Yes, I said the Chicago streets welcomed me
in AAB rhythm
just like I knew they would.
When night fell,
the doors
of Blue Chicago
opened wide
and I walked into the sound
of Willie Kent and the Gents,
a bass beat rumbling
up through the soles of my feet
while guitar notes squealed
for me to feel their pain
and then roared for me
to understand their redemption.
Days spent with friends
on the streets
of Chicago
walking in the rain,
sharing deep dish
and wishes,
seeing all the city
will allow
in a short time.
Goodbyes echo
between the buildings
rattling like bones
in the tightening air.
The final notes
are played,
progressing in sweet descent
until I touch down
back home
on the coast.