I sat in poverty
and alone

somewhere

back in 1962

reading my draft notice
and lying upon the floor
of my last midnight
listening
to that song I loved.


"It Had To Be You"


I gave your record
and my guitar
and all the wet paintings
along with
my old radio
and all my clothes
....and the two chairs

to my poor artist friends

..and I rode a bus to a war.



Chicago didn't care

...and America just fell asleep
long before
I got home.


(The blood and the tears never dry)


Yet I hear you
.. still!

the one
and only
horn.

.....your tenor saxophone.


"It Had To Be You"


playin' somewhere in my old head

from then

to now.....

and forevermore.


©Caliber
32304cy