just the jazz in his head

at a bus stop
(one of the better places to come across
people interesting enough for a poem)
a man clicks and taps
his feet to a rhythm
that must be
stuck in the pavement,
because there’s no music
not even wind
or birds squawking on this corner,
just the jazz in his head –
hard-bop I think,
if I judge rightly
by the tempo and the snap
of his fingers, which seem to fill in for the snare
though I don’t know which
body part he’s going to use for the
double bass,
but he’s got a pretty good sound
out of the concrete, I guess
so I let him go
try not to interrupt the solos
or crowd him as he
takes another deep breath
before stepping on.

.

(still going on music at the moment, here’s an early draft of something I wrote while listening to Red Clay)

13 thoughts on “just the jazz in his head

  1. Beautiful poem, Ashley. Yes, you capture the rhythm very well in your lines. I love it when poetry plays music for me. I also love the picture you paint of the man on the sidewalk…feeling the music in the concrete.

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