He didn’t

He didn’t give a quarter
Didn’t ask for a quarter
Wouldn’t give a quarter
Didn’t want a quarter
They would pierce
his relentless, wily, toughest edge
Real fighters are just mean, they don’t
mean to win, they mean to hurt
Don’t just cry—
A man who travels
has an interesting tale to tell
Every good musician disrupts
your expectations, riles your confidence
The great ones do it to move you out
from under your skin
Little one visits today
so they play a game—
he gets to be the monster and
she’ll be the princess
Once the joys of coupledom stop
they don’t return
She looks like a gypsy,
like a thief in that black cape
He keeps his wartime memories
to himself
His bags are packed for exile,
for escape
It’s a world that won’t meet her standards
She thinks everyone’s the same
Just like her
but without her discipline
A cough that just persists—
“Doctor, is there something going around?”
Doc says, “There’s always something
going around”
It was an edgy, anxious time
They lost it— their tenderness, their devotion
Singers aren’t always wise and are
rarely dignified
Without violence
there’s no negotiation
Without negotiation
there’s no victory



-December 27, 2013-