If I Had Possession Over Judgment Day

Originally posted 11/28/2010.

Robert Johnson lived
where he died
(though he got around some
if the stories
are to be believed)

Robert Johnson
lived where
there were no arteries
only veins 
squeezing blue to the heart

Robert Johnson
lived where he could
condemn every last one of us 
to Hell 
with gusto and a song

Robert Johnson
lived and died
by pussy
bottle guitar and
one sharp suit

Cigarette boy from the suburbs
on the stage tonight in a sharp suit
You’ve seen plenty and gone far
but I can hear 
where you live

That smells like kind bud
on your lapel
I know that’s small batch bourbon
in your glass and
that’s one hell of a guitar

If I had possession
over Judgment Day
I’d cut you in your fretting hand
just to see
what thin color you bleed