chet baker bathroom wall blues.

I’m staring at the blue & white octagon tiles that have been laid on the bathroom floor of every Chicago apartment built before 1940. And Chet’s staring back at me. I can’t come in here without him making me listen to his solo.
Girl, what are you doing here, with this guy who doesn’t wash his hair, in this filthy house where you could write your name in the dust, rock ‘n’ roll posters in every room, stacks of comics where he sleeps…
I say Chet, you wouldn’t understand, he treats me good. Took me to the auction, brought my new couch and chair up four flights of stairs, buys me dinner, calls every day, it’s not that bad.
Skulls everywhere, corners reeking of death. Girl what makes you think it’s worth it to crawl back in that bed? Put your pants and shoes on and go home.
When I’m over here Chet, AM1390 plays the sweet dusties, not the ‘my girl left me and I’ll never make it’ tunes.
Take a walk girl, get out of here while you can, or you’ll end up back here watching kung fu movies in bed on Labor Day.
Ya know Chet, why should I listen to you anyway? You don’t know me. Now you’re looking young and good, leaning against the wall with your horn like you’ve seen the world and know everything. But wait til the booze catches up with you, and you’ll be nothing but a walking skeleton then Chet, dry wrinkled skin and sad eyes.
You think you know what’s going on. You leave your shampoo in the shower because it makes you feel like his girlfriend. Do you have any idea how many other girls have showered in here? He doesn’t even brush his teeth with your toothbrush, and you let him put that mouth all over you? What happens the next time he unwraps a condom and sets it on the dusty nightstand until he can get it up again?
But that first kiss outside his place Chet, while a pizza delivery driver ran up to the building next door, it was so good I forgot about everything.
You won’t get it girl, til he leaves your place and won’t take your calls and you have to slip a thick letter through the door at his work.
Oh yeah Chet? Well maybe you’re right, and next year I’ll accidentally visit the last place you played before you died and remember all this good advice you gave me. But it’s late and I’m tired, so I’m saying goodnight to your solo and the blue & white octagons, until the next time you sing me the song I know all the words to.