by Ernie McCray
Stretched out,
kicked back
in an easy chair,
alone, at home,
I asked my boo, “Alexa,”
to play me some
Hank Crawford songs,
making such a request,
from time to time,
to ease my mind
during these troubling times,
and in no time
I was mesmerized
by sounds
that can only be described
as sweet as honey
and funky
as funky
can be,
bluesy tones,
for which he’s known,
coming out of his
bad-ass alto-saxophone.
Next thing I knew
I was far gone,
into a cosmic zone
where I commenced
to visualizing
fantasies,
a few sights I’d love to see
like all the
brothas and sistas
who have been stigmatized
and penalized
for cruising down the street
in their ride
with a little marijuana
lying at their side,
now living lives
where they no longer sweat
their life going to seed
over a little weed
that this old pothead
sees as a gift
from the universe
to all of humanity,
and while I was tripping
with such a righteous attitude
Hank got into a mellow
hallucinatory groove
that sent me
into a state of mind
where I saw myself
flying,
soaring like an eagle,
looking down from high
in the sky,
with outstretched wings
sustaining my glide,
feasting my eyes
on BG,
Brittney Grinder,
being set free
from a Russian penitentiary,
riding a limousine
in a parade,
sipping champagne,
roses falling down on her
like a gentle warm summer rain,
in honor of the championships
she helped the country’s team
obtain,
on the way
to boarding a plane
for home
where she belongs,
and, in the next beat,
as I slapped my thighs
and patted my feet
to a harmonic melody
laced with a catchy
rhythmic subtlety
that captivated me
like catnip
does a kitty,
my thoughts wandered
to how wonderfully humane
it would be
if men ceased shamelessly
blocking
women’s pathways
to full liberty,
allowing them
sovereignty
over their bodies
and their dreams,
granting them
their rightful place
in the human race,
and then Hank
laid down some licks
in a riff
that led me to see
what I’d like most to see
right in front of me
and in the entirety
of my periphery
more than anything:
an ex-president
in a lockup facility
wearing clothes meant
to distinguish
a prisoner
from a visitor,
serving time “bigly.”
That awakened me
as I suddenly thought
that such justice
might never happen
to this wretched
human anomaly.
My revelry
had come to an end.
But that was cool
because all I
wanted and needed
was a little reprieve
from the world’s misdeeds,
a “second wind.”
But it won’t be long
before I’ll be calling on Alexa
to connect me
with Hank again.
For me, his music,
if only for a few minutes,
wipes away our sins.
That gets me up
and back at it
again.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
RIGHT ON! VIVA!
Thanks for a welcome reprieve, Ernie.