Jazzy Sunday. “Love is like a hammer. “Poem 18 for April.
Love is like a hammer…
(Poem eighteen for April.)
I left Michigan in 1991 and I sat in the Jazz club at 12 pm, trying to write a poem. The Jazz man was playing the songs, so good. He asked me. Johnnie, you need a song. I told him. I want the saddest and most honest song you can sing. I put twenty dollars in his tip cup. He thought a minute and he told me. I got your song my friend. The saddest song I know. The song is called. Love is like a hammer. He begin to sing and I started bleeding to the paper.
“Love is like a hammer…
My dear love, beautiful Eve told me. If you leave me today. Please don’t come back no-one. If California loved you so damn much. I hope she can make you happy. I returned in 1994 and the door locks were changed and I knew. She didn’t love me no-more.
I went back to California and beautiful Simona told me at the sea. Love is like a hammer. You can be the nail or the hammer? Both wanted too little or too much. Bacchus wine keep us safe and every kiss we steal. Demand payment. Let’s drink the tequila and weave a story where love won’t brake our heart.
I left California in 1994. I loved the Austin Jazz bars. I could drink and swim in dead memories. Beautiful Ana would join me. She asked for a drink and a kiss. I ordered her a tequila and a cold beer. She smiled and she give me a warm kiss. She whispered. You love the jazz, like I do. You and I, we damn love a long time ago. We love rhyme and song. We know, love is like a hammer. We are stealing or we causing madness. Dark poet. Make me believe love is sweeter than hate.
I took her to the empty dance floor and I told her as I held her tightly. The bliss and kiss we do need dear Ana. Love will damn us into believing we are not alone. I learn a long time ago. We will pay for every sin. Better to be honest. Lies will bury our souls. She smiled and she pushed her body closer and she whispered. We need what we need Johnnie. Sometime, a little bit of love keep us alive. Even if we are doing the liar’s prayer.
I kissed her hard and I told her. You are sweeter the September Michigan honey and kinder than a warm Spring day. Let’s dance into the streets of Austin. Find the Austin river and pray for love. She smiled and she whispered yes.”
The Jazz man finished the song and I thanked him. I torn the sheet of paper out and I gave the paper to him. He read the words and he smiled. He told me. This is Jazzy and so true. Blue love, dark love. Is still love my friend.