Rain Rain Rain

I am grateful for John Lee Hooker
and the beautiful blues experience he gave me
many a decade ago
in a heated, sweaty, local music house
with wood floorboards
and a low, raised stage
that night, my friends, the blues screamed and raged
and shuffled softly
in a melancholy groan
legs shaking
eyes glistening
and a guttural, communal moan
we were hopped up on wonder and flame
no shame
as we let the blues sweep over us
a torrential storm
rolling thunder
that night
we all stood blindly at the crossroads
the deal already made
and we twisted and turned as Mr. Hooker’s thumb did strum and thump
that night; so bright
we all wore shades

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