Samuel Running Wolf

 
. . . is the lady alone . . .
last words of the song
made famous by legendary
Manfred Wilson was lost in
applause
even drunks recognize something special
gnarled fingers cord the old guitar
beat-up and scarred
like the old one caressing it
Samuel Running Wolf tipped his Hoss Cartwright Stetson
smiled a snaggletooth smile of satisfaction
he knew too
when it was special
 
one-man blues show
1960's skid-row Los Angeles bar
for lost souls
Samuel Running Wolf
known only as Chief to the desperate ones
who came to drink
problems away
that's an oxymoron, not that they'd know what it means
some would though
not all bums are bums
no
some just don't have the heart for the struggle
of maintaining the status quo
druther cry in their beers
toss off whisky and wine foley-oley
blurs life's problems don't you know
 
the bar was named 319
street address, nothing more
tough place for tough people
no quarter given
Chief stuffed vintage clay pipe
between his discolored teeth
special blend of tobacco
yes indeed
stayed stoned
all alone
although a star of 319
 he was alone
for what did being a star of 519 make Samuel Running Wolf
if not the culmination of failure
Chief's old enough to die
and the 519 is his claim to fame
making people laugh and sob
 
there once was a man called Chief
he didn't like modern ways
with the "man" he had a beef
so he stuffed his pipe of clay
with weed that's against the law
down here though no one cares a whit
dulls thoughts and leaves him in awe
so he smokes and smiles a bit
reservation raised, he left
found the other world lacked soul
he wandered around bereft
then found himself on the dole
wandered into the 519
and became its star attraction
the . . .
Navajo singing machine
 
©July 19, 2016 / Jerry Pat Bolton