I remember it all

A Life

Here’s the rock and roll memoir  

I’d like to read:

It was loud

I didn’t like Bill

our first drummer

or was he third?

The riffs, I stole  

the words, written

by a callow youth

torment me

to this day like

a swarm of

                                                wet bees

the body of

my obituary

written by interns

at Rolling Stone

lays waiting

                                                patiently

for a call

I don’t remember

(in no particular order)

where the name of

the band came from

the outcome

                                                of the lawsuits

what happened

                                                in Dallas

writing

                                                a song cycle about Madame Curie

rides  

                                                in ambulances, limos, helicopters
marriage to 
                                                Margaret Trudeau
punching

                                                Burton Cummings, and

if you say we played

Farm Aid twice, well, then

I guess you would know

I can’t piss standing up or

hear a word you’re saying and

my doctor says

we simply must

get a handle on

my liver before

we even begin

to think about

replacing

                                                          knees

                                                          hips

                                                          corneas

                                                          lungs, but

I’m booked to play

our first three albums

in their entirety

live in February

at the Beacon Theater

with the New York Philharmonic and

our original bassist

Ian somebody

with scheduled interviews

on Fresh Air and Imus and

a concert film

by Jim Jarmusch.  

Did Yorick have Blue Cross?

Inked

Hamlet for a moment, you pierced my foot

with a gimlet eye, cradled it aloft

in your hands like an ingot of peat, or

door stop yam or maybe a hay stack of

a Dagwood, critical appraisal

shading to a deli lunch of talus, the

pleasing crunch of metatarsal on rye

toeing a big pickle and a side of slaw.

Imagine my relief then, when, pen in

hand instead of fork, you brought me nearly

to tears tickling arch and Achilles

with a birds nest of blue line, Hamlet

once again, explaining, alas, surgical

technique to one jumpy Horatio.   

Warm tone, cold nose

Horn Dog

The album of duets with Willie Nelson

isn’t my favorite, though

there are some interesting moments

in your interpretation of

I Wanna Be Your Dog  

Willie’s idea

I heard you mention to Terry Gross

done live in one take

late one night in Bob Dylan’s Malibu studio

eyes crossed by turns

on your axe, then the vaporizer

“Miles Davis”

you said when asked

to recall your earliest influence.

News to me

when it wasn’t that long ago

I threw a ball and you brought it back

to Louis Armstrong or

Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

smiling around

your fuzzy prize, tail up.

I didn’t think you had the lip, frankly 
with paws like that

I always pictured you draped, panting
over an upright bass.

Breakfast recommendation

Washroom at the Bourgeoisie Pig

Sometimes when I’m out of town, alone

in some restroom smack dab

in the middle of nowhere, or

occupied behind the locked door

of a big city washroom

hot and cold spigots preaching

sermons of rust to an enameled sink

waist high in ancient wainscot

sunlight by faith alone

transcending one small sash window

stained dumb with alluvial grime  

upturned face pale in watery adoration

The Great Hive humming

just the other side of the old tympanic

membrane of a door, I flush

with the not altogether unpleasant feeling

of hiding from a fitful world, or

maybe more to the point

that the dogged world has suddenly dropped

everything to look for me

a spell easily broken by three sharp raps and

nagging guilt from my failure

to follow posted hand washing protocols.

I settle on

dark roast coffee

the breakfast bowl and a heaping

side of disappointment to find out the world

(in a hurry as usual)

has already come and gone

(espresso to go and a bear claw)

without once inquiring after my whereabouts.