Billy Holiday, Jazz and Blues ringing true
to those stories of forever,
to memories of eternity:
Laralen singing “God Bless the Child”
at 420 South 22nd Street,
Melanie's face aglow in adoration
of Lala and her song
as we pass the pipe.
Black Mamas with a capital M
and a capital B, too (though Mel had Auburn hair
and Laralen dirty blond).
Didn't much think about who was who
in terms of past lives lived,
in those days,
just took it for granted
we were here and now.
Since lovers like those two've become
most times mostly memory,
my reveries have conveyed my mind
to a claustrophobic sarcophagus,
my apparent interment after some other life,
and possibilities of who all we were and are
through the tumult of eternity,
incarnations and reincarnations,
love and loss and strange stories
that keep us entertained as we play
and ply our way through forever,
those songs and dances we are blessed
to sing and dance and play
as time goes by,
time and time again . . .