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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