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When I Was a Tugboat
and I couldn't awake from the nightmare
that sucked me in and pulled me under
--So Real, Jeff Buckley
A beatnik, strumming the streets of Greenwich,
the cleft in his chin a branding of musical royalty
he cant rub out. I never make it to Cafe Sin-e
at the bottom of night, when he swathes his lips
around an audience like a boa to its prey.
But, I hear the rise of his voice at dusk
his steeling step to my mouth and I cant help
but swallow him whole.
And those who unleash him from my reach,
lean into his mouth like I once did, hoping
to revive the range of octaves like the sound
of Africa before Christ, just one more time.
Rachel Mallino ©2005
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