Great Water Blues
Dad’s home was in Copiah county, Ms but he made mine here,
The city whose cold is as sharp as a butcher’s knife,
Where, paved with lead, streets are bordered by shacks and
weeds,
And where gusts of whisper now sweep the sidewalks of my
desolate life.
Like a Southern old timer, I sow dimes and track racoons and
squirrels,
Rural survival in the shade of the Distraught Central
Station,
This rollercoaster of roses and nettles,
The countryside crawling into the city, among buildings and
joints.
Never leave the land of Marvin and Sixto – my baby used to
say
And I hang on to it, waiting for revival and some sweeter
day.
