(click on drawing)
I love going to Yoshi’s with my son
We listen to jazz while I sketch
in the smoke and cell free zone.
The chairs are so high and small I slip off.
My feet hang.
The man in front of us has a coffee
bean printed on his cap.
The room goes dark as the waitress
brings a beer and a scotch.
Wearing a light weight summer suit
the pianist walks out on stage.
Three other musicians follow.
The pianist begins to play.
Look at the line of the piano.
How tall the string bass is.
The bass player’s fine line
fingers work the strings
into peppermint strokes.
His body moves back and forth
He plucks the strings.
Coffee bean head starts bobbing.
Fingers are tapping. I’m drawing.
The sax player presses the brass
buttons of his saxophone
as he leans into his song.
His body filled with intuitive
moves back and forth
up and down.
A familiar tune is playing.
Wrapped in the rhythm of the moment
I’m in there
Loose ink glides over
My eyes, hands and the music are one.
The players pour out their stories
Drums join in.
It gets going
Sounds play off each other.
Now a full easy tune
yellow daffodils become
a thundering herd of mustangs.
Heads are bobbin. Feet are tappin.
Everyone is gone
Fresh silver stars stretch out.
A meadow of blossoms folds over into peach.
The music textures down to
Applause follows quiet.
The set is over.
But I sat down only a moment ago.
I understand how I could
learn about the workings of
a computer or build
a painting or dissect a frog but
how to build jazz
I do not know.