Friday, March 18, 2011

indeed he is

"The greatest poet of my generation," I exclaimed to my dad one afternoon, listening to Dylan while driving to Paciugo.  I made him do that sometimes; listen to my music.  Seemed fair.

"I'm a worried man, got a worried mind."  Dylan was singing Things Have Changed as I searched for a parking spot.  "What was that about?" my father asked when the song ended.  "I'm not sure, Daddy.  I think he's lost," I said. 

"The greatest poet of our generation," I also touted to the group of ladies last week at that birthday party where we toasted my sister with Forever Young, wishing we could be. 

Lay Lady Lay, All Along The Watchtower, Sarah, The Times They Are A Changin', Joey, Mr. Tambourine Man, Hurricane, Not Dark Yet.....  I play a lot of Dylan.  I play Dylan when I'm happy.  I play Dylan when I've a worried mind. 

Like tonight; I think about the people of Japan.  I gently turn dinner's blackened salmon, remembering how cold I heard it is in Kamaishi. 

I sip wine and hum along to Black Diamond BayThere's a message in the harsh lines.  A profound message from the greatest poet of my generation.  

I was sittin' home alone one night
in L. A. watchin' old Cronkite
on the seven o'clock news.

It seems there was an earthquake that
left nothin' but a Panama hat
and a pair of old Greek shoes.

Didn't seem like much was happenin'
so I turned it off and went to grab another beer.
Seems like every time you turn around
there's another hard luck story that you're gonna hear.

And there's really nothin' anyone can say.
And I never did plan to go anyway
to Black Diamond Bay.

The song ends.  I pour another glass of wine and plate the fish.

Black Diamond Bay
Jacques Levy and Bob Dylan

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