Jo
Stafford (November 12, 1917 – July 16, 2008)
A
letter on the vanity. Next to the talc and brandy. A shadow standing
in the corner. A stocking flung over his shoulder. A cigarette in his
fingers. Looking back with a smile on her face. Some kind of
disruption behind.
The
Chesterfield Supper Club. Radio Show. Dinner served with laughs. A
lot of coughing. Love curled up in a purse. Jo Stafford. Entertainee.
Perfect pitch. She could have played for the Yankees.
Old
sailors no longer get their pants pressed. And the fleet is sleeping.
In the noon day shade. The dust has settled. The war was won. And the
retirement homes are run. By government men. Dying of congestive
heart failure. Jo Stafford wept. First love would not come again.
Glenn
Taylor. Such a tall man. Idaho Senator. Arrested in Birmingham.
Alabama. For walking through a door. Marked "for Negroes".
Watch the fog set over the harbour. A flash of light. Observed on the
moon. A spotlight. On the stage. And a beautiful blond. Singing
goodbye. Jo Stafford died. At age 90.
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