I Wanna Be Your Blues

I wanna be your blues.
I want to wear my black hat
and pace the lines of your calendar.
I'll strum my guitar
until I find your Coney Island street map.
I'll divide your verbs
and conquer your adjectives.

I wanna be your blues.
I'll be the obscured reflection
in your poison mercury mirror.
I'll be the trade wind routes
wrapped around your vision
like DNA ladders.
I'm your stolen alphabet,
your last will and testimony.

I wanna be your blues.
I'll be the clutched heart valve.
The fallen breath.
The thorn's embrace.
I'll be the black top cataclysm
of a thousand coffee cups.
I'll sing your dark corner.
I'll trace the varicose blue highways.

I wanna be your blues.
The dissected chords
of a regretful morning.
The melting clouds
behind desert eyes.
The last broken string
of a haunted love affair.

---

Written in response to this.