breakdown lane

                       —for Illinois Jacquet

By DB Cox

the bus rolls somewhere

between sundown and tupelo

the old gunfighter sleeps

sitting up—uneasy

turning an old movie

over in his head

a monochrome masterpiece

from yesteryear—

surrounded by other bandits

always willing to give away

what they could never get back—

a little red blood between blue lines

back before the whole goddamn thing

wore thin as the ass of his pants

& he found himself alone—

displaced in time

surrounded by bloodless souls

contemporary mercenaries

who could wrap a five-note minor scale

around the neck of a 7th chord

& strangle it into submission—

fucking mercy-killers

sighting down the barrels

of saxophones & trombones

like a terrorist death-squad

sending a message

with too many words

to jean baptiste illinois jacquet—

saying something like: “fuck the melody”

the grand old man groans in his sleep

dreaming of a 49 buick roadmaster

burning fast

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posted 11/12/04