Falsetto hits those high notes On the Radio,

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