Del Monte Blues hum the windowpane
there and back again
heard the old man is coming soon
been so long…something over a year
been so long since I had the tune
but I tap on it everyday

Is he still a man with long hair?
These are the questions I have
so many questions left unanswered
and I need to know
maybe all we have are the questions
and there are no answers

Who’s living in Snug Harbor?
Who’s listening to the Del Monte Hum?
Who’s stealing the silverware now?
Not me
not us

There’s a warp in my drum
I can feel it…I know it’s there
all packed away with no one to play
not one
of those encompassing tunes
do we even remember? Do I?

But there’s still that lasting hum
driving
unbroken
a buzz resonating within those walls
it’s there…I can feel it still
as if my face were pressed up against the windowpane
and my ear to the strings
and maybe I do remember
we all remember
what those days meant
those words and notes and melodies

My feelings of pancreatic shock have subsided
gone, too, is the itch from my weary eyes
hell, I can barely last till eleven now

If only I had a phone
I might call everyone up
up there in Spokane
down there in Flagstaff
here in Monterey
but what would I say?
How do you get past that awkwardness
knowing that you haven’t spoken in so long?

I ran into a friend the other day
and he gave me the latest
the latest news of you
but you already know these things
having lived them yourself

But I want to tell you
the coffee has turned to sweet chocolate
not so much caffeine as before
and the refills are on me
there’s no waitress here
I eat now…real food
none of the ketchup soup
I sleep now…real sleep
but I still haven’t caught up on it

I want to tell you
that the Golden West is gone
that there’s no more smoking bar
the music is locked away
and the zombie has finally gone to the grave

And I want to ask you,
“Can you find me in the dream?”
I rarely see you in mine
I can’t remember when I last did

I’ve seen the red-haired Zachariah
he came back too
different now
but I suppose we all are
He said to me, “Don’t put the drums away.”
And I could only reply, “What use are they?”
“You never know…our whole dynamic may come back together.”
I didn’t tell him that I don’t believe it ever will

I ask you again, “Can you find me in the dream?”
Is the dream the same?
of stardom and music and the dark poetry we live?

I’m passing through Patterson now
on my way to a different dream
and I think I’ve finally found a new tune
and left Del Monte behind in its reverberation