a blues habit

the wisp of a love not taken

yeah, I feel your coalsmoke eyes
standing sky-tall after seeing what they’ve seen
come dance a little closer, Señorita- I swear I won’t ignite
I can breathe your words and sweat them out and
sure, they tingle as they circulate
bittersweet taunting like
bacon on cast iron just at dawn
or
hot coffee
tendrils chasing off the bats.

and I hear your silent fingers strum
ancient chords of Buddha, Christ, and Dusty Hill
like they were never forgotten
beneath the concrete
tradition sprouts up through the cracks
no matter what toxin we spit
between our teeth

and I see it the way
you don’t feel it anymore
rippling hot horseflesh on a wild desert sky

but no

I could never really love a Texas man
knowing what worms lie
punched
and mezcal-drunk
in the bottom of that can