20 02 2009

Peggy Lee
Eyes can be beautiful. Fill the heart with glee. But Peggy’s step-mother had eyes like knives. A slit across her cheeks. See the blood trickle down her pink skin. Do what I tell you! And don’t pout. Off key. You’re so useless. Don’t think your daddy is going to save you now. Peggy joined the long line of dreamers. Some headed into bottles. Some into heartache. Peggy headed west. To the City of Angels. Sang for her meal. In small joints. With fast cooks. And red necks. Can you smell that bacon sing? Customers wanted a little pink in their steak. A little fuzz from this peach. Of a kid. With a voice that purred. In smoke filled rooms. And the man with the pea sized eyes at The Ambassador Hotel West cleaned his glasses. Sat cross-legged. At a table for two. I need that girl. Peggy became the voice of his band. But all the members of the band stood upright. Could not sleep. Thinking about her. She married the guitarist. He had such funny fingers. Each blister had a history. Oh Peggy. My sweet Peggy. Kept getting knocked down. Like she was a chump and never the champ. Almost died in a fall in a New York hotel. Got up. In a second fall, she was tripped at the top of a set of stairs leading to the underground. By a man with no legs. She kept getting up. And learned a secret. Don’t be in such a rush. Peggy took it slow. The quieter she sang, the quieter the room became. Her voice simmered. Everyone in the room leaned forward. The waiters hesitated to wait. No one dared slam a door. In the kitchen. Or in the parking lot. In the hotel rooms, lovers held their breath. Sang in a wheelchair. I like men. And the men lined up. And she whispered something… sinful in each of their ears. Don’t ask what it was. That’s none of your business.



One response

26 06 2011

hi-ya, I like all your posts, keep them coming.

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