Greggory Meets Bob 1969

for my friend Gregg (in plaid) a draft by Merimee from notes by Gregg

Read it with a Dylan/Cash-kind of rhythm   (gui’ tar) stress on first syllable

ps Gregg, I know nothing of song writing. This is a poem;

then again, Dylan is a poet.​10/21/16)


Me & Bob Dylan 1969

I was sitting in yr driveway, Mr. Dylan, way back then

You surprised me with yr talk about who was I, a friend?


You said the neighbors didn’t like any transients on your porch

but I could come in for a sandwich, if I didn’t mind white bread


I said I did; you sat me down and passed me a guitar

the one from Johnny Cash with your eyes lit up like stars


Just back from Nashville, recording with the man in black

You were holding your white sandwich and you let me pick a tune

A sandwich worth of music on that Woodstock afternoon


I’d walked all over Woodstock asking people where you lived

I’d walked all over Woodstock but I wouldn’t eat white bread

said I wasn’t hungry, a kind of picky, skinny kid


We hippies liked whole food, and fixed a certain way

Mr. Dylan, you were generous to let me come inside

And I’d rather play your guitar than eat a sandwich, any kind


I wanted so to meet you and you said I could come in

Come in for a sandwich; put a guitar in my hand

You said, Come in for a sandwich and put a guitar in my hand.




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