I AM A SONG FOR RICHIE FLORES
He sat like a gool-a-gong in the midst of Mowie Wowie
Chuckalin stories from his sax out into the sea
Like a tasty puka boy a roastin Columbus Avenue green
Swingin wild and free-like he played stories.
Saloon bound he filled the night with color's bluish
And sort of up into the Broadway roof's, flying
He was some kind-a nice sax man-boy say Hi
Oh Richie Flores of the Broadway horn!
Say "Hey", for Rich Flores, (moved to Marin)
We know, though he don't say (he moved away)
Whispers in the corridors of the Avenue Hotel
Tell his stories to immigrant chinese landlords.
Kirby Doyle still rolls his own in your doorway
You know that Richie Flores? Who be gone.
And I miss your Mowie Wowie stories, cruisin
The places in my brain you touched, while playin
Your crazy horn.
