Hayden Carruth

(August 3, 1921 – September 29, 2008 / Woodbury, Connecticut)

Scrambled Eggs And Whiskey - Poem by Hayden Carruth

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Scrambled eggs and whiskey
in the false-dawn light. Chicago,
a sweet town, bleak, God knows,
but sweet. Sometimes. And
weren't we fine tonight?
When Hank set up that limping
treble roll behind me
my horn just growled and I
thought my heart would burst.
And Brad M. pressing with the
soft stick and Joe-Anne
singing low. Here we are now
in the White Tower, leaning
on one another, too tired
to go home. But don't say a word,
don't tell a soul, they wouldn't
understand, they couldn't, never
in a million years, how fine,
how magnificent we were
in that old club tonight.


Comments about Scrambled Eggs And Whiskey by Hayden Carruth

  • Rookie Trucker Jeff (6/18/2006 11:04:00 AM)

    It's a damn good poem (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: sometimes, home, light, god, heart



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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