One Bourbon
a tribute poem to John Lee Hooker
it was hot
but not too hot
and this here old man
sat back on red and plush parlor chair
right there on the sidewalk
his old gibson and radio style mic
plugged into beat-up fender amp
he started strumming this chorus
picking the verses
explaining how he hadn’t seen his girl
since night before last
strumming and picking
his feet tapping the concrete
tenement windows opening
children eyes blinking
mouths widening and smiling
neighborhood cats and dogs and
even mice are drawn to the curbside
children coming out a’running
a young woman sitting cross-legged
on second story window sill
snapping fingers and tearfully
relating to the old man’s story
they’ve all been down this road before
every single body within earshot
soulful and sad but ever so hopeful
realistically aware how it’s
easier said than done
washing away those same old blues
april two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
Very nice.
thank you, Leonard
You’re most welcome.
Love everything about this, John
thank you so much, Kathleen
This is incredible. I love it. And I could sure get down with the beat in the street, first-person.
thank you, dear
I could hear his scratchy vocals as I read your work…. absolutely love this! Great write, John!!
Thank you very much, Jo!
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Thanks Ivon!