CHAZ BERRY CAN PLAY

When I heard about Chuck Berry
earlier today,
how, at the age of eighty five,
he had crossed state lines
from here to there
with no particular place to go
– when I heard about his final destination,
I felt sick.
I felt awful.
I felt sad.

When I realized that Mister Berry
had been plucked from us
never to be seen
– or worse –
heard again,
it left me low.
He was on the road
until the very end
serving the world
that he created
almost sixty years ago.

And I had seen him
once
decades past
wen I was young
and he was younger
but it has been so long
since I bowed before his altar
and
he deserved better.

And I don’t care
if he repeated songs.
And I don’t care
if he transported miners.
And I don’t care
if he watched women pee
– who hasn’t?
I just know
that hee built this city
and all others
on his rock
and we owe him a dent
that now
we can never repay.

And when I heard
that Chuck was not gone
was alive as you and me
I said, “good news!”
and promptly forgot him again.