When I first heard of you... I was sheltered in a purple booth for four not old enough to understand what love lost and love found can do to a guitar pick. Tennessee had been good to me. But not as good as BB King’s Blues Club at nine yours old in Memphis Tennessee The sounds permanently tattooed in your fingertips and my memory, I remember the awe more than anything else. The way the sound lingered like falling molasses and settled like it was baking the soul in history. BB King, you planted that seed. Rock and Roll and Blues, What did I know of those? Besides the way it went down so smooth like electric Egyptian cotton on my skin, a sensual dance of drum and chest and that voice– a soulful sandpaper of sorrow triumphant over the past. I remember when that trip to Tennessee became my past. and the it way it was reignited in the commercials you were in and I was nine again, my mother, two brothers, a dinner, a dance floor, and your stage. I don’t remember thanking my mom directly. I don’t remember telling her how much it meant to me. I feel like she already knew. Because BB King, you planted that seed. Later on Jazz would find me and so would the Blues along with Rhythm and Beat. Like old friends, we’d all sit in a similar booth and I would tell them about BB King’s Blues Club, the contagious sound that manipulates the molecules in your bones, forever reminiscent in my heart beat. Today, I have learned the sway I have learned how to toss my head like guitar picks on strings. This plant has bloomed into a soulful purple Lilly with rhythm and beat as her roots. My only question for you: How many more gardens are you responsible for growing in the name of the Blues? Here’s to you. LEtter to bb King (video)
1 Comment
Clare Eliinger
5/18/2015 09:33:13 pm
so beautiful and moving. Thank you, Tayllor
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AuthorTayllor Johnson currently resides in New York City where she has begun her journey into Poet. Passion. Period. In between those learning moments, she sometimes has just enough time to jot a few lines... Archives
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