Madam’s Jass Club

not the guy with the saxophone and the dark suit
he doesn’t like me
the guy beside him
other guy on our right
trumpeter with thick hands
he calls it jass
and he has clearly earned the right to call it whatever he wants
he defines the word ‘jass’
and it defines him
both were playing before all the peepers changed the name
on Bourbon Street New Orleans
his brother in-law
the guy playing the clarinet further to the right
has never treated his sister right
but the man can play . . .
and she never complains
that’s their drummer
but that isn’t his drum set
he busted the bass last week
(it was so old
only a matter of time)
he rented this set for the gig
can’t tell if he’s comfortable with it just yet
the place is theirs
they have been playing here since the Vietnam war
since the old place burned to the ground
(under rather suspicious circumstances)
the stage set
put together by one of those bohemian artist
over at the studio
kinda reminds me of that dilapidated filling station
we saw out by the Everglades
(of course that wasn’t jass
or jazz
we had on the radio
it was Thomas Dolby)

it’s like that

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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