TONY

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Frank Sinatra sang for the lonely

Dean flirted and scored 

Sammy was a one-man show


But Tony Bennett was something else.


Tony was a swinging cool cat

With a growl 

and a purr

He was a schooner 

gliding at 100 knots

on a cloudless day

where the sun likes to jump

and jive

He was a rocket ship

blasting towards the

milky way

daddio

He was a street kid 

stomping through puddles 

on a rainy day

He was a late-night 

after hours

jazz club

When the cooking was just getting started

A splayed bow tie

and a sweaty brow 

leaning on a baby grand

ready to prowl

the alley of sound

with Bill Evans 

He was a preacher

at the pulpit of pop

who snapped to the verse

and flew a chorus like a kite in flight 

He was the boutonniere 

The Beau Brummel pinkie ring

The diamond pin

on a sleeping lapel

He was as Italian as Calabria

and as American as the songbook

He was the spotlight

The stage at Carnegie Hall

The crooner who probably would have sung

for nothing

if the stars hadn't aligned.

He was the thump of the upright

the tour guide of love

the irresistible toe tap

The baseball-loving deacon

with a bongo-beating heart

He was the mad painter

An activist from the downbeat 

A ladies' man as smooth as pudding skin

The hipster mailman

who delivered letters from

Porter, Gershwin, Berlin, Rogers

and Hammerstein

He was body and soul

The interpreter of silence

Two fingers of Jack on the way down

A slow-burning Pall Mall 

tipped by a lipstick kiss

He was as lush as the orchestra

as graceful as a fighter 

in the early rounds

He was the comeback kid

The Benedetto who duetted

The carrier of the flame

that was lit by Krall

and Gaga.

And he was one of us

who knew just how much glam to

add to the sauce

to make it feel like we

were for a brief shining moment

rich beyond our wildest dreams

He was the soundtrack

that was always there

especially in the desperation of night

when hope is up for grabs

He's been gone now 

since 2016 

when his memories started to

be carried off

like the scenery of a canceled play

And now

for the first time in my life

he's gone, baby

He finally punched the

one-way

ticket to Bliss Street.

But God, 

the hep cat of harps,

and longtime fan

always had a plan.

He made sure 

that Tony left songs

that are as inextinguishable as

A serpentine firefly

or the still tingling  lip memory of a first kiss

But today

the loveliness of Paris seems somehow sadly gay

the glory that was Rome is of another day

he's finally going home 

To his city by the bay,


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