Levon Helm sings
an old Dock Boggs song
that I don’t know the name of

like I don’t know
the name of the smiley face
that’s painted on everything around here

or the name of the Valentine’s Day card
with its lace and formality of love
cut to fit upon a card

I do know they are in Worcester today
on a Sunday that’s as cold
as Levon’s grave likely feels within

or as colder still is Dock’s grave
Everything seems cold to me
here in Worcester

The local residents seem to mind
and are staying indoors
listening to their own music

I think no one but me
is likely listening to this music
listening to Levon and Dock

here in Worcester
I don’t feel much like belonging here
but I seem to have little choice

I’ll fight a battle between
the ragged blues of Levon Helm
and the cotillion of the Valentine ladies

I will fight a Worcester war
in the cold of a winter day
where my coat’s too short for a formal dance

so I think I’ll go down to George’s later
Have a Coney Island dog and a half-sour
Dream of blues and formal music

and thank God I’m here in Worcester
where the divide between them
isn’t enforced ever or even much at all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T