Ain't That The Blues Poem by Kurt Philip Behm
Ain't That The Blues
She's familiar,
aint that the blues
Sleeping beside her,
I always knew
Chipped beef on Monday,
Thursday cold stew
Dishes piled high,
paycheck gone through
She's familiar,
ain't that the blues
Home from work early,
today around noon
Mattress was creaking,
my pistol I drew
Two shots in my brother,
—four more in the flooze
(Chicago Illinois: Performed with Clinton Mace at Cabrini Green)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2025 7:12:09 PM # 1.0.0
