Voices on the Wind
FRESH PRESS BLUES
LBJN#3, Portland, Oregon, 6/8/70
by Dick Bakken
Walked downtown barefoot with Ivan after
belting "Well Oh Well" and another squealed
cry, Ivan just a-slapping that saucepan.
Danced a chip of glass deep up in my heel
goading for ten I’d won dating Soo first
as we popped into Nude Juice for the Blue
Pick-Me-Up. Ivan digging to flip glint
free with his Swiss Army awl, both we fools
shrieking and laughing blueberry-squirt bursts
out our nostrils, slapped crazy into eyes.
I turned back to slump home, Ive waved my ten,
off toward Museum Art School to surprise
Soo after classes, his purply grin true
as a hot Szechuan plate. "See you." "See you."