I was somewhere deep in Kansas
on a Triumph 69’
When your song came on the jukebox
and hit me from behind
I was headed for a bad place
and cared for nothing much
When I heard the song ‘Melissa,’
my heart and soul were struck
Entranced, your lyrics captured me
like nothing had before
When you sang about ‘The Gypsy’
I headed for the door
But something made me turn around
and grab another dime
Ten more times in that diner’s booth
still lost within your rhyme
Now back inside the bus station
and sleeping on the bench
I scratch your words into the wood
last dollar gone and spent
My bike outside against the wall
the kickstand was long gone
And out of gas, my hopes were dashed …
that unrelenting song
Waking up at ten unsettled
across the street I pushed
The sign said TRIUMPH-BSA
the owner Mister Cush
He asked, “What’s with your motor”
I said “Nothing — out of gas
“But worse I’m out of money
can I sell the bike for cash?
“Would you please just buy my Triumph
I know it’s old and worn
“But it got me here through seven states,
runs great both cold and warm”
“I’ll pay three hundred on the spot
on that can we agree?”
We walked back up inside his shop
three bills he handed me
I thought about a bus ride home
my thumb looked more in line
Facing East on old route 50
my heart in deep decline
The first big rig that came along
was bound for York Pa.
The driver said “If you like dogs
I’ll take you on your way”
In York I caught a fast ride out
two ‘dodgers’ going North
And got back home with hat in hand
your song to guide me forth
Two years then passed, I met my wife
four more and our first child
We named her ‘Sweet Melissa’
her dad back from the wilds
Now forty years have come and gone
my beard and hair both gray
I owe you Gregg, and always will
your song, her name — that day
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
For Gregg Allman
I sent this to Gregg in May, 2017. It’s on his website.
We spent two days together in Richmond Virginia in
a blizzard in 1982.
An Anthology Of Perception 