Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey
Scrambled eggs and whiskey
in the false-dawn light. Chicago,
a sweet town, bleak, God knows,
but sweet. Sometimes. And
weren’t we fine tonight?
When Hank set up that limping
treble roll behind me
my horn just growled and I
thought my heart would burst.
And Brad M. pressing with the
soft stick, and Joe-Anne
singing low. Here we are now
in the White Tower, leaning
on one another, too tired
to go home. But don’t say a word,
don’t tell a soul, they wouldn’t
understand, they couldn’t, never
in a million years, how fine,
how magnificent we were
in that old club tonight.
Copyright Credit: “Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey” from Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey: Poems, 1991-1995 by Hayden Carruth, published by Copper Canyon Press in 1996. www.coppercanyonpress.org
Source: Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey: Poems 1991-1995 (Copper Canyon Press, 1996)