On Listening to Robert Johnson

It was a bleak summer night and I was walking, no particular place to go
I would walk into a circle, and come right back to the place I was at before

It was hot and had been raining, humid even at 2 am
The streets were wet and the grass was soaking, there was no dry place to lay my head

Deep blue fell from the night sky, bleached to grey under the overhead lamps
All the shadows were 3 dimensions, like you could crawl right inside and camp

I heard music down the avenue, that punctured right through the traffic sounds
Harsh and sweet all at thе same time, and I hurried to follow it down

I stoppеd outside a grey house near the alley, and found my way to the sound
I could hear the music clearly, and I lay myself down on the ground

I was taken to meet the devil, and I trembled in the pouring rain
I took a ride in a fast car, next to a woman named Betty Mae

I woke up to the blues, it was walking, blues walking like a man
I was a bar-room clown, i was stumbling, stones all in my path

I carried my baby's suitcase, down to the waiting train
While the blues fell down, just like rain

It all ended with the sunrise, i tried to get to my feet
The music still played in my aching heart, it was such perfect poetry