Fingers pressed tight
I clench the callous-making strings
And recall the thunder in your walls.
Smokey, Alfie, Jimmy Crucifix, and more
Held down the funkified groove
For the hounds at the gate and
An army of punks and rockers.
The carpet is worn,
The soda machine sold beer,
And my ears ring for joy.
Then, in a nanosecond eternity
A guitar cries in my dream,
A million candles ignite, and …
I pause to inhale one last blast of instant nirvana.
Thank you, Carole Lennon
And all the staff over the years
For the refuge you gave.
An hour or three at a time.
From the small rooms
To the soundstage
To the bones in the hallway.
As you dim the lights
And shut the door,
We salute you.
(Written to mark the closing of Lennon Studios’ hourly space – 1984 to 2020)