It’s nighttime at The Naked Oyster, the dinner crowd is just finishing up. The waterfront air is permeated with garlic and wild rice. Those in the know are headed to the small stage in the back where the poster says, “Headliners Tonight: Neil Diamond, Paul Simon, and Bob Dylan.”

Diamond begins:

“It’s a popular song, an American popular song,
a simple story, wrapped up in glory.
Makes ya want to sing along,
makes ya want to clap your hands,
makes ya want stomp your feet,
it means business!
The American popular song goes on and on…
The American popular song goes on and on and on…”

Paul Simon continues:

“The Mississippi Delta was shining
like a National guitar.
I am following the river, down the highway,
through the cradle of the civil war –
I’m going to Graceland,
Graceland in Memphis, Tennessee.
I’m going to Graceland.

Poor boys and pilgrims with families,
and we are going to Graceland.
My traveling companion is nine years old,
He’s the child of my first marriage.
I’ve reason to believe,
we both will be received
in Graceland…”

Dylan closes it down for the night after all three have taken us through their best until the wee hours of the morning. WOW! Right here in Benicia! Can fiction at The Naked Oyster always be this much fun?

“Well, your railroad gate, you know I just can’t jump it,
sometimes it gets so hard you see.
I’m just sitting here beating on my trumpet,
with all these promises you left for me.
But where are you tonight, Sweet Marie?

Well, I waited for you when I was half-sick.
Yes, I waited for you when you hated me.
I waited for you inside of the frozen traffic,
when you knew I had some other place to be.
Now, where are you tonight, Sweet Marie?

Well, anybody can be just like me, obviously.
But then, now again, not too many can be
like you, fortunately.
Six white horses that you did promise
were finally delivered down to the penitentiary.
But to live outside the law, you must be honest,
I know you always say that you agree.
Alright so where are you tonight, Sweet Marie?

Well, I don’t know how it happened,
but the river-boat captain, he knows my fate.
but everybody else, even yourself
they’re just gonna have to wait…

I’ve got the fever down in my pocket,
the Persian Drunkard, he follows me.
I can take him to your house but I can’t unlock it,
you see you forgot to leave me with the key.
Oh, where are you tonight, Sweet Marie?

I’ve been in jail where all the mail showed,
that a man can’t give his address out to bad company,
and now I stand here lookin’ at your yellow railroad,
in the ruins of your balcony,
wondering where are you tonight, Sweet Marie?”

Peter Bray writes, lives, and works in Benicia
and has written this column since 2008.

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