Mound City Luv
Lo
It be 40 yrs
Ago
I see Bessie Lester: fire engine red, Cadillac purple, hot bazooka bubblegum
pin, Shockinpopsicle yellow an' orange in floppy riot 'round her brown stick
figure;
Her magpie laughs and screams sweep the tops of maple and oak trees;
Perched on her front porch in The Ville, a silver pot o' greenbeans tight
between her sepia vasellined thighs;
Bronze fingers a-fly,
She be snap-snap-snappin' 'em.
>From wayback in her kitchen come the pop-pop-pop and fingerpop;
Flaming pan of fish--deep fried bounty of Ogun.
An' O baby doncha peep Winston Diller a-comin': rumblin' down Sarah on the
roar of flaming chrome;
The St. Louis Nighthawks a pop-pop-pop and fingerpoppin' hog ridin' posse
hard on his trail;
"Well, I do declare!" declaims Miz Bessie as motors gun and stressed rubber
shrieks 'n squeals;
"A cullud man on a Harley and decked out like Lee Marvin in "The Wild One"
to boot!
Cuz Winston playin'
Striped shirt snoopy helmet goggles
Tough as he wannabe;
"Lawd!" Miz Bessie trills. "He aint what he oughta be but thank you he
isn't what he was!"
That was Mound City Luv,
A funky Midsummer dream,
Cooler than Eskimo pie,
Hotter than the 4th of July.
Lo
It be 40 yrs
Ago
I cruise down Page avenue slicin' steam of Summer Sunday afternoon in a Ford
Thunderbird convertible;
Dig the immaculate white on white in white interior of the vehicle!
Rag top down;
Chauffer conked, dirtysilk doo-ragged an' lookin' patent leatherish about
the head;
Chuck Berry Johnny Be Goode rockin' round the box (O yeah!) I swear that
rock 'n roll be some real sweet travellin' music, mister--an' if I'm lyin'
I'll kiss yo' ass!
Let the world glide by
Smooth as glass;
Through lush bush thigh high grass wrist thick vine trees that dwarf the
mighty banyan;
My man! St. Louis be an African paradise but Johnny Wiessmueller swings
here only at the Saturday afternoon matinee at the Comet picture show;
Sharp as a tack in tailored Werner Hilton threads,
Stacy Adams shoes,
conked dirtysilk doo-regged and lookin' patent leatherish about the head the
extras are all dolled up to steal the best lines and play the lead;
Be dat
Miz Georgia
I sees?
Cute curvaceous and sexy in the blue glow of Old Man Tableford's tv screen?
(In them days the whole hood would gather at his place to watch "The Friday
Night Fights" cuz he wuz the only one on the block who had any television to
be seen);
She gigglin' twistin' this way and that like the cathode ray tube is cold
kissin' her all over;
O Miz Georgia!
With breast and butt lush as the mother continent,
With waist narrow as a wasps,
With hips wide as the sea,
All the men want her soon as the grow old enough to know;
There's this story she told;
'Bout how she warned Cockeyed Tom workin' the counter at Lee's Corner Store
how be better get his thumb off the scale 'fore he pulled back a nub;
Guffawlic gales sweep the tops of the maple and oak trees;
Sugar Ray Robinson be the World Champeen!
That was Mound City Luv,
A Soulful Midsummersnite dream,
Sweeter than sweet potato pie,
Hotter than the 4th of July!
And when to sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up visions things
past, gold-tinted images of times I thought was always gonna last;
Makes me wanna holler and throw up both my hands!
Shall a man seek? Can he find?
O say
Can you groove
Down Yellowback Road
Do the Backstreet Boogalo to East Boogie (Toodleloo!)
Fall on in the Terrace Lounge;
Though lights go out and City blazes--Miles growls "So What"--this cannot
still the Drumvoices;
Dr. Eugene B. and his Culture Club baybee (hear Satchmo yowl--"Ooooh
Yeeaaaah!)All the way live!
Viper glidin
Loas ridin smooth as a Yesterme Sunday Afternoon
Praise Damballa Weyo All Powerful, the whole East Side is a Spirit House, a
downhome African Grove soulfully aglow;
Like
40 yrs
Ago;
And Baron Samedi there struttin' tuffer than Cab Calloway: Lord of the
Graveyard, gangster, artists and clown;
East St. Looie (toodleloo!) be his kinda town!
Ballades of Remembrance everywhere up and down the Great Muddy in the rich
coal black Li'l Egyptian ground, and in the foggy air;
O hear the pop-pop-pop and fingerpop of the beat sweepin' the tops of the
maple and oak trees!
Say Hey!
Mound City Luv is alive,
Today! Cuz it's hot hot hot HOTTER
Than the 4th of July!
Chris Hayden
_________________________________________________________________________
Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com.
Share information about yourself, create your own public profile at
http://profiles.msn.com.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
|