Friday, May 09, 2014

POEM - Chops [Jazz Writing 005]

The dance floor
Crowded
In the tiny town
Local high school
Showing off their jazz band

It was crowded like no one’s business
The closing song
A final farewell
To departing members

And that band was hopping
And that country kid
Plays that sax
Like he was born
Attached to it
In NYC
Where electric air
Filled his lungs
Brought through the window
Heavy and powerful
From the clubs of Harlem

Everyone gets sucked in
Bobbing their heads
Clapping along
Awash

In the joyous noise

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