61 and 49 are just two roads
that happen to intersect like an X in
Clarksdale, Mississippi. The Devil’s Crossroads,
it’s called – there’s a big monument to the blues
smack dab in the middle of town. Three guitars
rest on an iron perch over an old sign.
It’s nothing more than a tourist trap these days,
with bums panhandling people in fanny packs
for spare change to be used at the liquor store
down the street from Crossroads Furniture and Abe’s
B.B.Q. hut – now that’s some good eating, but
me personally? I prefer Leo’s in
Rosedale, down at the bottom of the levee
where two freeways meet to mark a location.
Over the hill flows the mighty river Mark
Twain loved so much – it’s too bad his writing is…