Post by Bobbi Baker on Jun 23, 2005 1:41:50 GMT -5
Sunday Afternoon
Beale is alive, blurry with people moving
In neon skips and casual gaits
Stepping over the golden streams
Of beer that roll into the gutter -
Dancing and straining to see Al Green’s brass note and
Dead Elvis’s sideburned incarnation ablaze in studded white.
Where did that sudden breeze come from ?
Did it snake its way down Riverside Drive
Past the shimmering Pyramid and Jake’s ash hewn place?
Or did Captain Howdy put his beautiful blonde lips together and send it
Racing all the way here to Beale Street
Just to blow the pale blue of my chiffon dress in long lilting sweeps?
The purchase of a “Do What I Say” talisman ensures that
A tall and handsome cool one
Will buy me another tall wet cool one
With the mere flick of my ivory wrist and a sideways glance.
See me swaying gracefully before the crowd?
I’m the masthead -
My ship skillfully cutting through the ebony sea
Leaving a foamy crest of white behind me- awash in my wake.
Where do you suppose they come from -
Those unmoved and unmoving tourists
Photographing the scene from the rear
As if at a zoo and as if not to get too near,
The pallor of their Sea & Ski fish belly skin
Offering a foreign scent to the sun soaked masses?
Someone is singing, Marvin’s “I Need Sexual Healing”
And everyone is moving, floating from cloud to cloud.
From all four corners of this two block universe,
Rhythms converge – adding layer upon layer of sweet juice
To the cacophony of sight and sound.
Ms. Charlotte Taylor opens her mouth and out comes rusted honey
Creating in us the strangest of harmonies
Where homegrown cultures like the ripest red tomatoes
Overlap and mix together.
By nightfall in Memphis, beneath the glimmering gray of the moon,
Black and white have become
The loveliest shade of undulating silver .
Copyright © 2002 by Bobbi Baker- Lakeland, Tennessee. All rights reserved.
I appreciate the time you have spent reading me and welcome your comments. Please feel free to write me at:comments@bobbibaker.com. I look forward to hearing from you and invite you Into a Yellow Wood and other Venues whenever you get the chance.
www.bobbibaker.org
Beale is alive, blurry with people moving
In neon skips and casual gaits
Stepping over the golden streams
Of beer that roll into the gutter -
Dancing and straining to see Al Green’s brass note and
Dead Elvis’s sideburned incarnation ablaze in studded white.
Where did that sudden breeze come from ?
Did it snake its way down Riverside Drive
Past the shimmering Pyramid and Jake’s ash hewn place?
Or did Captain Howdy put his beautiful blonde lips together and send it
Racing all the way here to Beale Street
Just to blow the pale blue of my chiffon dress in long lilting sweeps?
The purchase of a “Do What I Say” talisman ensures that
A tall and handsome cool one
Will buy me another tall wet cool one
With the mere flick of my ivory wrist and a sideways glance.
See me swaying gracefully before the crowd?
I’m the masthead -
My ship skillfully cutting through the ebony sea
Leaving a foamy crest of white behind me- awash in my wake.
Where do you suppose they come from -
Those unmoved and unmoving tourists
Photographing the scene from the rear
As if at a zoo and as if not to get too near,
The pallor of their Sea & Ski fish belly skin
Offering a foreign scent to the sun soaked masses?
Someone is singing, Marvin’s “I Need Sexual Healing”
And everyone is moving, floating from cloud to cloud.
From all four corners of this two block universe,
Rhythms converge – adding layer upon layer of sweet juice
To the cacophony of sight and sound.
Ms. Charlotte Taylor opens her mouth and out comes rusted honey
Creating in us the strangest of harmonies
Where homegrown cultures like the ripest red tomatoes
Overlap and mix together.
By nightfall in Memphis, beneath the glimmering gray of the moon,
Black and white have become
The loveliest shade of undulating silver .
Copyright © 2002 by Bobbi Baker- Lakeland, Tennessee. All rights reserved.
I appreciate the time you have spent reading me and welcome your comments. Please feel free to write me at:comments@bobbibaker.com. I look forward to hearing from you and invite you Into a Yellow Wood and other Venues whenever you get the chance.
www.bobbibaker.org