Sunday, June 5, 2011

She Done Him Wrong.

She Done Him Wrong.

“She Done Him Wrong…”
“She did.”
“Such a nice young man. It’s a shame.”
“What’s she done?”
 “She did the worst thing,”
“What was that?”
“I take it you don’t know the story?”
“No. Do you?”
“I’m not one to gossip but let me tell you what happened… that poor child had those stars in his eyes. You know the ones. The love struck kind. All very silly for this little girl around the bend. Pretty child she was. I can’t imagine another brighter than she was. They were inseparable for a while. It seemed to be a bit of destiny involved. People around these parts sure enough thought it was a fine match. Until…”
“Until? What happened?”
“Ramona, let me catch my breath. Then I’ll tell you.”
“Alright. When you’re ready.”
“Thank you. I’m feeling a little better. It wasn’t cause that fellow had no money. If you want to believe she did it cause of the money, you’d be wrong. Was it because of his looks? On the tongue of most gossip’s they’ll say that was the reason. But I’ll tell you different. That child. She did him wrong because she knew that she could. There wasn’t any reason involved except pure malice. Now the reason she did it, ain’t half as important as what she did.”
“What’d she do?”
“Ramona! Don’t rush me!. Some folks want to taste what’s out there before settling down. That’s right as they see fit. But this one, she didn’t much care for the flavor of one. She needed to taste much more. The very idea of sharing a woman with another man, let alone every man in town was too much for that fellow to find out.  She sure done him wrong… and he’ll never be the same for it.”

300. Doing the dance of holding back? So say we all. There are very many things that musicians and artists do well AND keeping material secret is one of them. This is from last year. A bit revitalized and revamped. So… Matisse was a lovely man, I’m going to think of him fondly, and wish you a wonderful evening. The table is spinning, don’t look too closely, or you will get dizzy.  Enjoy. kisses. m.

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