Donna Summer celebrated. Remember, he wore
A red jumpsuit with sequins in distinctive pattern.
A one hit wonder of a man doing an early set
For old friends in his bar, typically Black—
The red banquettes, the loop da loop smoke
From desolate cigarettes. Tom Dent was alive.
The lights are never bright, this is not Broadway
The red jumpsuit, the heavy permed hair—
James Brown’s late 70s “do” exaggerated
How the material stretches, his voice a token
Of feminine energy—and yet the swagger
Is masculine—a 70s idea of gender shifting
Ambivalence on display. Tom Dent gently gossips.
Recollection. Treme. Under a shaking super highway
New Orleans, late 70s. Tom Dent is dead.
The lights are never bright, this is not Broadway
Tom Dent is dead. Memory tremors.–Treme, New Orleans
And Donna Summer is “on the radio” falsetto in a dusky place
His red sparkling jumpsuit asks us to see the singer
Feminized and so we do. Song over and voice drops
As fast as blood or semen spilled, oh so quickly
Across the pleasure canals of this water-surrounded city.
The lights are never bright, this is not Broadway
