When His Guitar Sang

He has a photograph of the house

where he made the record

of his guitar and his voice.

He keeps the photo

and the disc in his car

where he lives.

He lost the house

and sold the guitar.

The car doesn't run.

It wasn't wastrel ways

but an epidemic of hard times.

You try to keep eating

after every thing is gone.

He laughs, “Call me Good Time Music.”

his name is what he did

when there was room for everyone.

He says,

when I'm laughing

I ain't dead yet.

He has forgotten

the deadly hysteria of despair

The colors of the photo of the house

fade.

it is an image of the outside.

He thinks he remembers the inside,

but he can't tell it from movies he saw

He wishes he had a photo of himself.

He can't tell his reflection from his self

the image from the mirror.