Louie
Poverty set the table with the blues,
what else was there to eat?
Worryin’ about the next meal,
every meal,
and mama whorrin’ herself out.
Couldn’t learn schoolin’,
Couldn’t waste time complainin’,
Couldn’t believe
Jelly Roll’s skeel-deetlin doo-wa-tee-doin ivories.
Pawnshop trumpet and lips that fit the mouth.
scat / deet / doo-da
that Heebie-Jeebie jazz tinglin’ voice flirtin’ with the air.
This man’s a cornet inside!
When he was in Chicago every breeze was a tune,
the lift and settle, breath and sigh, solo.
The trash on the flurries was that holy Dixie band
couldn’t find no place to live.
No gig too small! No gig too far! No gig where we won’t play!
if ya pay us ‘nuf to live on, this here horn ‘n me,
an maybe if ya don’t.
Music.
New York, Chicago, Harlem, New Orleans.
Ain’t gonna be Gabriel blowin’ that horn
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