Poem : Letter To Tom Waits

Tom Waits, Tom Waits

Won’t you have a drink with me?

Or maybe a smoke?

For, I feel my career is now at a crossroads  

Yet

Some would say it’s just begun

So why not

Have a drink on the town?

I’ve done every job imaginable

To not have any other title than writer

Well

Artist is an acceptable title too

I did what it took

To pay the bills

Cause scribbling words for a living

Ain’t much of a living

But all is well

For the night still holds the stars

The moon still climes high in the sky

Making the broken glass

In the bar’s parking lot glitter

Like spider eyes in the cast beam of a flashlight

I still have a cassette tape of some of your songs

From the 80’s  

It’s old and faded

Yet

Really refreshing

Because it’s not perfect

Like most of what you hear today

Refreshing like a handwritten letter

Instead of an email

Or a painting done with the brush of a toothpick

Instead of a computer graphic

Flaws are now a thing of beauty   

Tom Waits, Tom Waits

Won’t you have a drink with me?

We could watch cigarette smoke

Drift away in the darkness

You could play your piano

I could play my guitar

Until the night is swallowed whole

By the serpent of morning light

Tom Waits, Tom Waits

Won’t you have a drink with me?