The May afternoon padded slowly across my lawn, playfully stalking the unwary evening. From across the dog walker's jungle the blare of a horn rudely interrupted the clatter of it's northbound express to implicate me in my ambivalence. Hands up! I've been called out. The Sun scratched me with it. The passing train and all the pointing passengers accused me of it. I dally upon the stair, counting specks of dust clung to the haunting cobwebs strung across the landing, chase my tail, playfully putting it off. I think another sudoku could be in order, but magnificent logic offends me to confront myself in the bathroom mirror. Despite trying to con myself otherwise I spot the misting denial behind my eyes, the sparkle has gone, my corneas are matt and my cheeks are a desert. The exit is calling me, The door yawns, awakening nagging, pointing fingers and they twist in the air, lengthening and thickening into black iron bars: I have no exit now, only the cell block in my mind.
Sidney Bechet, American jazz saxophonist, clarinetist and composer, was born today in 1897 and died today in 1959.
Frank Sinatra, American singer and actor, died today in 1998.
B. B. King, American singer-songwriter and blues guitarist, died today in 2015.
I met Mr. King at the Fox Theater in Atlanta in the 80’s. Was dating a DJ who got backstage passes.
The DJ turned out to be gay and the only reason he invited me was because I was willing to drive from Savannah for the show.
It was worth it. He was the consummate artist and very gracious.
That’s a 30 seconds I won’t forget.
Excellent poem. Thank you too for the interesting dates on the greats. Sad especially about BBKing