One Night ZZ Hill Sang at the Club Tupelo

The night ZZ Hill sang at the Club Tupelo

on the Westside of Chicago

he was built like a heavyweight boxer in a tailored suit

             bathed in a soft blue

light like the only thing

to see in that darkened

space where bluespeople came

to turn a tear into a holler

then a cry of joy and exultation.

The women lined up to kiss ZZ Hill

or at least shake his hand

but with a turn of his hand

he waved them away.

They couldn’t hide

disappointment,

but that’s the way

love treats a woman

sometimes.

He kept on singing, boxing the air,

those songs about promise, regret,

and living it, turning our hearts

tough like his voice got turpentine in it.

Do you know how ZZ Hill died?

In his driveway, laid out

under a bright midnight moon.

Like Heaven opened its refrigerator door.

The neighbors watched from their windows.

Wasn’t he on stage?

Whispering about how falling down

Drunk

He was

Disgraceful.

Dead.

Drunk.

He was, in truth,

gone.

From a heart attack at 49.

That fast. That young.

Leaving

Our hearts

Knocked out

In some down home

Blues.