Memphis

The rhythm and rhyme
Of a good time
Smoky afternoon air
That burns the eyes
But appeases the nose
Leading you to a cavern of
Charcoal produced barbecue
Made low and slow in the good
‘ol US of A.

Impromptu conciertos that make you wonder
Why the musicians don’t have a major label
Deal, in the midst of their harmonious
Musical genius, notes flowing freely
Into the ears of a crowd that may be too
Drunk to stand, bopping their head
And tapping their feet in a way that is
On key, but simultaneously way off
Beat.

And the panhandling population
Dwelling in the street
Asking for a moment of time
To get a few pieces of excess change
Some used to hearing novellas
About how they were just going to spend
The money on alcohol or drugs
Some just getting through it to feed a family
Or themselves, stomachs filled
With rolling pain.

The scarlet red and burnt orange sunset
Midnight black trees are the backdrop
To a fantastic city,
And a horrid problem
Drug bumps, restaurants, hungry residents,
And rich citizens
Clumped together in an orchestra
Of black and white differences
Oh, Memphis…
What will the world
Do with you?