“Why you smiling playing that jazz?”  She asked with serious

eyes and lips parting the oceans of my thoughts.


“It’s the spirit shadow inside me.”  I replied, smiling

into her deep pool eyes and hurricane hair.


“It pushes you into play?  Making fingers find the notes?”


I leaned on the bass and slapped the strings.  A groaning

echo released hard into the air between us.


I looked up and said.  “I hear a sound like voices yelling

from a passing train.”  She tilted her head back, laughing.


I slid the strings with my fingers, releasing notes.  Her eyes

were full and curious.  She hummed to my playing,

swaying her shoulders.


“I see the jazz.”  She said.  Her eyes now closed.  “It’s

got hold of the music in me.”


I played on.  The language of jazz was speaking.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s