Chet Plays the Mercury L

Chet Plays the Mercury L


Before the rain
Eroded a
Whisper ballade
The private pictures
in sordid songs
About stupid hearts and
Busted scales
Trashed in
drop dead lipsticks
Chipped onyx cufflinks,
Silver-lined
deco cigarette cases
Passed on by
Discarded lovers
Thrown through smoke
Of scared promises
Playing the whispered psalms of a
Cobalt wind.
Not singing
Driving a pink panel
55-crome
Chevy convertible
your Lakehair
Playing cello
wind tide on
His lap and
you make him hum
‘Where or When.’
As you kick your shoes off
Of the window to feel the
Wind between your blond toes
Or Else he pisses you off and
His horn can lead him in
A scarred melody about you
He’s locked in his room
And the management has seized his luggage
So he works on a song
Not ‘Where or when’
Slunk in a suitcase
But the brow
Of toppling raven hair
sweating
The expiration of
Notes left cradling
his trumpet in that flat.