The Trumpet Player (for Maynard Ferguson)
Thirty years later
I sat in a restaurant
across from the Jazz Port
eating a soft-shell crab
and thinking about Maynard.
Soon, I would take
a seat in the back row
of the tiny theater
as he warmed up backstage
sliding through scales
above double "C"
stealing my breath
and moistening my eyes.
I remembered a clean cut young man
"Swinging [His] Way Through College"
and the Newport Jazz Festival.
So when he came on stage
with "High Voltage"
it was a shock to see
this fat cat with hamburger
lips and long gray hair.
Then he proceeded
to blow our socks off
and I was sixteen again
lying about my age
to get into Birdland
corner of 52nd Street
and a simpler world.
11/05/95