On days he's desperate for a new song
he'll buy a sack of CDs, rip one

open in the car, slide it into the player —
and almost immediately see the fool

again, the one whose mother sang to him
so softly while she nursed him his first day

out of the womb, whose father had a band
and more 78s than anybody

in town, the fool who suddenly understood
his own galactic insignificance

and glimpsed the prison of his ignorance
hearing Elvis Presley's "Heartbreak Hotel"

at Kay Barnett's thirteenth birthday party,
fool who nearly wrecked his car pulling off... Read more

In 1966, the Womenfolk required me
to pull off into a muddy ditch
beside a two-lane near Mainz, Germany,
to hear them finish Are You Going
Away With No Word of Farewell.

The Kingston Trio's The First
Time Ever I Saw Your Face caused me
to hum off key so passionately
into the scented ear of Kathy Gilbert
that we fell into something we thought

was telling us to get married before
we realized we hated each other.
Jerry Lee's Whole Lotta Shaking gave me
fantasies about my younger cousin,
Elvis's Heartbreak Hotel at Kay Barnett's... Read more

His old tool shop smelled

of machine oil, sawdust,

and men who couldn't

care less how they smelled.

There, on Saturday

afternoons, the men

turned up tall bottles,

leaned against work benches,

lathes, drills, or vises;

they fooled with hammers,

planes, and screwdrivers

while they talked away

the time, occasionally

erupting with one

of those mighty beer

belches that impressed

the belt-high grandson

just hanging around,

knowing eventually

he'd be offered one

short sip, then laughed at

for the face he'd make.... Read more