Kelley Jean White

10th of July Blues

it’s ninety-eight degrees out
I can’t get any relief
it’s ninety-eight degrees
and no sign of relief
better stay inside with me
baby, don’t give me any grief

I found a stray puppy
took him for my very own
and that sorry little puppy
he became my very own
now I’m not lonely any longer
and my house is now a home

there was a street in this city
no trees no grass no shade
the hottest street down in this city
never cooled down in the shade
and you better believe in August
the hottest tempers got raised

I used to go out to the forest
I used to like to see the trees
there was a quiet in the forest
there was a quiet in the trees
a little light fell through their branches
put me right down on my knees

I folded all your laundry
hung up your shirts and pressed your sleeves
I put away your laundry
your ragged shirts and wrinkled sleeves
I didn’t know you’d left me
you didn’t know how much I’d grieve

 

Rowboat Blues

I’ve got a little wooden rowboat
I’d like to take you for a ride
in my little wooden rowboat
we’d be seated side by side
but here comes a big old yacht
Honey, he ain’t got what you want

You see a bitty chicken feather
broken and dirty in the street
just a little chicken feather
cast off and dirty in the street
You want a big ol’ peacock plume?
Honey, don’t you see that man’s your doom?

There goes a fat shiny motorcycle
all black and red and shining chrome
a fast fat roaring motorcycle
power, noise and shining chrome
but I tell you baby honey
that boy won’t ever bring you home

I bought you a pretty little coat
nice quality wool with a silken lining
it’s a pretty little coat
top quality with a real silk lining
but that man wrapped you in furs
Honey, didn’t you guess what he was hiding?

Tonight, I’ll go on home alone
like yesterday and tomorrow evening
I’ll spend tonight alone
like last night and tomorrow morning
I hear your voice in the empty rooms
just like you were here still little darling

 

There’s always a railroad/in my blues.

Mama was gonna run off to the circus
be a hoochie coochie girl
but her cousin told her ‘your lips are too
damn thin.’ She told me look out for those fat

snakes, look out for skinny yellow dogs;
don’t settle on a tomcat, don’t let him
cross your path at night. But if you want to
eat a hot dog, lick a spoon of sugar first.

If a weevil’s looking to make your home his own,
sweep him down to the riverside.
She taught me hide your whiskey in a can
marked gas-o-line. Keep it away from your

smokestack, take a drink if you’re not seen,
cause a hummingbird’s a fighter. Mind you
keep out of frigid air.

 

Pediatrician Kelley White has worked in inner city Philadelphia and rural New Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in Exquisite Corpse, Rattle and JAMA. Her most recent collection is NO. HOPE STREET (Kelsay Books). She received a 2008 Pennsylvania Council on the Arts grant. Her mother really did have cousins in the carnival business.