Why Patsy Cline

Still Makes Me

Weak In The Knees

I just heard

‘Crazy’

On my local radio station

WDVR

In Seargentsville

Which is a tiny country town

With a flashing signal light

At the main intersection.

It is the most obvious song

Of hers to play

But ...

It’s still got me singing

‘Crazy’

To myself

As I walk my dogs.

It is so

Timeless

And pulls at the heartstrings

The way that it did

A lifetime ago

In New York City

In small dirty dives

On the Lower East Side...

They all had it

On their jukebox

Hidden in between the Ramones

And Motorhead.

You could definitely find it...

If you searched for it.

New Yorkers liked

‘Crazy’.

The shuffling drums, the crooning subtle organ

The lazy guitar and deep smokey bass...

It all mixed well with the stale tobacco

And the speakeasy history

Within these simple everyman

Juice joints.

It was the same in Baltimore

At the Mount Royal Tavern...

“Where good art is bullshit

And good bullshit is an art”.

Even more so at that really seedy place

Up on 25th Street

Right down the block

From where I lived.

They served

Those ‘Hot Cherry Shots’

That they made themselves

And ladled out of

The giant pickle jar

Glowing there

On the bar.

They would make you

Stumble the hell outta there

Laughing loudly

With the rest of the rowdy crowd

Being pushed out at closing.

They went down so easy!

But Patsy Cline was there

With the volume turned up loud

Her band thumping behind her

Piano keys tinkling

From the jukebox.

There was a bar full

Of people

From ALL walks of life...

ALL walks of life

At different levels of innebriation.

They knew and sang every single word

With conviction

In a drunken loud chorus.

They only fell a bit short of

The soulfulness and longing

Of Patsy Cline’s voice

And they didn’t have

The quiet fury of her band

Except for on a jukebox.

But there was something so moving

Hearing fourty-plus person’s voices

Singing together

In the lumin of beer lights...

‘I’m crazy for trying, I’m crazy for crying’

And I’m crazy for loving you’.

There is something haunting and staying

About all of those moments

That move me to sing

‘Crazy’

Out loud

And with feeling

While I walk my dogs.

I sing like I was in a bar

On the Lower East Side

Rubbing shoulders with

The salt of the earth

Or doing

‘Hot Cherry Shots’

On 25th Street

In Baltimore

With art students and winos

Hookers, poets and musicians

Getting nearer to

Closing

Knowing that all of us

Were soon

Going to be

Told to leave.