I am driving toward the
treadmill of my day job,
and I find myself behind a
magnificent black cadillac.
The tag reads BLUEZMAN.
I follow the road yacht in
my sensible Japanese car,
in awe of its jovian gravitas.
This monster could hold a
crooner and his bad luck
buddies with lawd so many
troubles keepin’ a man down,
yearnin’ to be free.
I see the driver’s coffee-colored
shaven head shining in the
morning sun, and I wonder if I
could ever be as cool as this biscuit
rolling hoochie-coochie rounder
with one elbow out the window.
I am going bald, so maybe there’s
hope. But I’d need to make everything
Grinding the coffee…
He stops at the red light where I
have to turn toward my day job.
The light changes and the ponderous
caddy rolls on toward that boogie
chillun horizon, unhurried.
I turn, as usual, toward the daily grind.
Everyone knows you gotta pay your
dues before you can sing the blues.
Mick is a writer and father of two mostly grown children who have survived his shenanigans through smarts they inherited from their mother. His creative nonfiction, fiction, and poetry have appeared in numerous consumer magazines, newspapers, and literary journals. His first book, Random Stones: A book of poetry, was published in 2016. His next book is coagulating nicely.