Some editorial changes have been made to the initial selection.
Internationally acclaimed, award-winning, and bestselling poet and author C. William “Justice” Clarke performs my poem, “Last Call” to the composition “Moonlight Passage” by 56th Grammy Winner, Laura Sullivan.
New York City and it’s 1942.
The rain is coming down harder,
the night swallows him.
It’s so damned hot.
He sits in his window sill, staring
into the wet city streets,
looking for a breeze, a girl to return,
glaring at nothing.
Even the roads are dead.
A few poor souls scamper soaked
towards cover, cover of the night.
He needs a place to hide right now.
In the little jazz bar across the street,
a haunting tune drifts
from the open door
into his black abyss.
He is as lonely as he’s ever been,
desperately in need of a drink,
a lot of them.
She left him again.
Who knows for certain.
He did something so wrong
but very familiar.
She won’t be back,
not this time.
He lights his last cigarette,
trying to understand
How can two people be far apart
and so in love?
He knows she still loves him.
He tried to apologize.
He always does but this night
she’s gone, truly over him.
He hopes she is safe and dry,
somewhere close. Suddenly,
he can’t feel her.
The panic inside him explodes.
Her perfume fades
on his neck.
The rain fights against him, too.
It also knows she is over him.
The rain is only trying to help.
not even that hauntingly perfect music
from the piano, the horn, will aid.
Oh, God! He prays she is close, dry and safe.
The smoke from his final Camel drifts
lifeless into the night.
He better make it last.
Nothing lasts long in his life
not a cigarette,
This one was special.
She’s the one. Now that’s over.
He can hear the piano,
pounding out the last sinew
of life in his heart.
How did they know
what tune to play
in that little jazz club
across the way?
Does everyone in New York City,
in the world, know he’s suffering?
The sweat rolls
down his brow and onto his guinea T.
Hope evaporates, taking his last draw.
The music fades away
onto the drenched streets.
The rain won’t stop. His heart has.
Yes, she is gone.
Copyright © 2016 Ron Shaw
The music dims to silence.
Laura Sullivan’s, “Moonlight Passage.”