Forever 27

We made love as a harmonica moaned and a guitar wept.

You always loved the blues because you said life was a tragedy, and music is life.

You wanted to burn away in a beautiful explosion that was seen and heard 3 counties across.

So you wrote on stolen paper, “meet me at the crossroads at midnight”

I found the place where 7 Mile Plaza becomes a stretch of indefinite dirt road. A junction of unpaved old; an unholy dusty cross.

We sat at in the center of the four points and waited.

And waited.

You didn’t even let me be afraid. You were always so strong.

“If this works we'll have anything we want! Don’t be scared. Think about what you will get; what you want the most.”

I would do anything for you. Even sit naked on the dirty floor in pure dark holding your hand.

All I wanted was you, forever.

“Me. I want to be famous. I want to be a blues singer and be remembered forever”

We never talked about what happened that night again.

They always wondered how you learned the guitar so quickly.

But I never asked.

You started in small bars and were famous by the time we were 20 something.

You had everything you wanted, and maybe that’s why you died that night in the stale motel in San Francisco.

I wonder what it was like when he came for you. Were you ready? I can’t imagine you being scared. You always knew it would happen.

Or maybe you, being you, decided you wouldn’t let fate take you. Maybe you knew exactly how much white china you slammed into your burnt arm, and that was your grand finale.

The sounds of the thousands that came to mourn you was heard for miles. You made the beautiful explosion you always wanted; and pissed off the sheriffs of three surrounding counties.

You were 27... forever 27. I was 26.

“I want to live so fast that not even death will slow me down”

You got your wish. You got what you asked for that night at the crossroads.

But I never got mine, because you left me too soon.

And that’s why I’m not afraid of tomorrow.

I know I'll live to see 28.