11/05/2017

STU BLUES ( for those that knew and loved Stu Blank)



What's about to unfold,   is not a story of a racehorse, who stumbled at the gate,   there at Delta Downs,  at Louisiana's border town, where the jockey,  left upon the ground, but is a series of events, all too much to behold, in a vin country tavern, up in Healdsburg, where a notable blues piano player,  in a bar not fully Irish, but Molly might give a lethal dose, to quote a poet, whose verse has been around, totally absent of a vanquilist tonight, and things thus was left ajar,  in this vin country bar, Stu sat at the keyboards to play, and in walked this,  this woman, who turned heads a she swayed, her walk would lead a sniper sight off its mark, the place was almost pitch dark, as she walked through the dim light, a raven in a field of crows, when Crown Royal could have been chose, could have this been the one who pecked at Poe's window that night,  ah, she was a tempest sight,  her name she spoke was Kerry Walker, a radiant star in the dim bar, she promade to the dance floor, dragging a hesitant Cajun from near the door, who finished his Old Crow asking the bartender for one more, before he hit the floor,  she wiggled like a snake, disrupted the musical set.

 ***Stu screaming I can't believe what I see from where I sat, when Kerry started to wail, a song of her forsaken, there in a southern delta town, while wiggling like a moccasin, a hanging from a cypress with all its toxin, Stu in his best composure played the blues while Kerry sang of this love, for long and lost, how a delta sheriff caught her man, stealing cars off the City of New Orleans as it stopped there in Naches, where the yard dog rested its guard,  still the bull hung around, he was busted roaring down Hwy 61 in a custom Shelby, with the odometer just pass 120 heading to Yazoo City, and without any warning, in walked Charlie blowin' his harmonica,  ah, tis was a blues thing, and Bowker was nowhere in sight, he will have to read the  story in the Independent,  late at night.

***From the harmonica sounds came a ghastly note, that only Charlie could provoke, and like a flash in the dark, Roy jumped from his terraplane, as it crashed through this sound, plugging in hs guitar, and the music started to town, with more sound than a Silver '52 Desoto could have ever evoked, with a full throttle heading down the delta plain,  all was going quite well, when in walked  the unabomber,  screaming this is some mess,  and my package will not leave any stress, when back of the room,  where two Mexicans were playing pool, a safe place for me to be on this night, to observe, and be all right,  one took his cue traveling through space like a rocket's glare, striking its mark,  obviously no believers could be found ths night in this vin crowd, when up jumped the Cajun with whose knife struck the unabomber vital parts.

***  Kerry unaware of the racket that about her ensued, swayed upon the floor, to Stu's rock me baby, rock me baby all night long, while Charlies harmonica continued its wail, as Roy roared up his 'plane' and drove like a manic across the unabombers brain, when one of the Mexicans shot out the lights,  and the crowd slithed like a chicken house snake, there upon this vin country floor,  'til nearly four, when the sherrif cme bursting thru the door, hauling off Stu, Roy and Charlie for the carnage at the door, the Cajun, Kerry and the Mexicans were not to be found, and the riot that followed leaves too much to tell, for the conclusion is to be written on the subway to hell... 

*** Unabomber was someone who hung about Cotati, and was questioned early 90's for being that 'famed', he was not *** Kerry was on FB, lost contact **** written at a placed called Molly's in Healdsburg, to see Stu and Charlie. one of those unforgettable nights..  

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