Rock Obit.

Your chords struck

like summer lightning,


lost in the ephemeral

geography of Route 66

jamming with Waters,Hendrix and Page

in unrecorded sessions,

unannounced out of town gigs,

no Sam Phillips and

Union Avenue for you,

just the frisson of

word of mouth and late

night unattended studios;

Your fledgling promise

of a could’ve,should’ve future

eclipsed by androgynous pin-ups

and their Top 40 golden disc,

that got taken away from you

in a drunken early morning call you made,

“you let them steal my song,you..”

that ensured you were never heard;

Years later, discarded

recordings belatedly retrieved

from forgotten storerooms,

piqued public curiosity,

“whatever happened to…”

2 a.m. rundown motel lobby,

someplace south of Phoenix,

a late night deal,

a drunken brawl,

a passing Sheriff

who thought he saw

you reaching for…

chords that struck

like summer lightning.

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