Come and Go Blues

The clean air and city streets of Atlanta surprise me as much as the Ferris wheel located downtown.
It’s as good a place as any for the last day of two thousand and fourteen.

The skyscraper lights twinkle in the early night sky, and the festivities haven’t even started yet. I wander safely between buildings until I find a little place to grab a pint and a bite. Table 1280 has glass walls on all sides, comfy lounge chairs to relax in, and southern belles to serve you.

“Stout and lobster sliders please.”

After a second pour, I take my last selfie as the year is fading fast. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about, as age is crippling my faculties. I might consider myself lucky to just make it back home after tonight.

The empty sculpture outside the Atlanta Symphony Hall seems a cruel joke as I walk past. Sometimes the lone journey is not easy for me.

Yet here I am, another town, another show.

I suppose not every show I see can be amazing. The drunken revelry of the crowd wears thins, conversations of strangers whispering in my ear are muffled under the guise of beer. I smile and nod, not having a clue as to what they are saying. The band plays on….

The stroke of midnight comes, and everyone turns to kiss someone, the entire crowd, except for one lone person. I stand uncomfortably, waiting for an eternity for the music to start up again. The girls on either side of me wish me a Happy New Year, and rub my shoulders.

I can feel the pity and it crushes me.

Gregg seems to see only me, and picks up a guitar. Screams of delight from the crowd,  yet he seems in his own world. Silently he starts to play one of my favorites tunes….

The “come and go blues”, and ain’t it the fucking truth.

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Wench, bring my ale, what say you?