Chuck Berry wails "C'est la vie,"
say the old folks, "It goes to show you never can tell"
& he snaps, thumb to finger, across the table
a snake in his seat, of constant movement, the beat
ahold his soul, his ears - his eyes
though are on the computer - coffee cup
off to the side, hot chocolate & he
periodically talks, 'Did you know...'
LEGO-thisNthat& Lord of the RIngs,
his current obsessions & later we will read
together, but for now i connect his freckles
in a universal dot2dot-draw hearts
at STOP sign intersections, TAP the hammer
soft on the keg spike to drink the moment
'spell Arwyn,' Google, discuss pretty elven women
& things you find only behind book covers-or reside inside.
Chucks retired, replaced by Blues
we dance across wood tables, staring over screens
til they are gone, all the people too, just us
& we laugh as he blows into his empty cup,
cheeks puffing out BigBang expanding---
Louis Armstrong, smacks the table, says
bring chuck back, bring chuck & blow
it like its hot
"C'est' la vie..." phone rings,
'You coming home anytime soon? '
"...you never can tell"
yeah, sing it boy...'well, maybe.
written for Poetry Jam.