Once, years ago, when feeling low, I overheard
a conversation in a bar:
MAN (despairingly
and a little drunk) I don’t know where I’m going any more or who the hell I
am even…
WOMAN (wearily) Oh, sure, and all that jazz…
MAN: Huh, I don’t even like jazz…
WOMAN: You don’t like jazz? Then you don’t
have much of a liking for life, man, and it sure as hell won’t take much of a
liking to you either….
After a sober pause, both burst out
laughing and joined several other couples swinging to a lively number on the
dance floor like saplings in a summer breeze. I went home feeling more upbeat than I
had in ages although not sure why…and that feeling has lasted - through thick and
thin - ever since. Maybe it has something to do with especially enjoying jazz among all kinds of music (and vocal) that do their genre justice....
L-I-F-E, AND ALL THAT JAZZ…
Looking back
at
angry shadows waving
madly
at me,
but
not in a friendly fashion,
clearly
blaming me
for
doing what I should not
have
done,
being
where I should not
have
been,
saying
what I should never
have
said
Looking
ahead
at
more shadows waving
madly
at me,
and
can’t even tell if friends
or
enemies
urging
I do what I want
to
do,
be
where I feel meant
to
be,
say
what (too long) needs
to
be said
Swinging
round
like
a scarecrow in the wind
at
what’s behind
making
my heart skip beats
out
of fear
for
all the mistakes I’ve made
and
half made,
put
right and half put right,
left
uncertain,
no
idea which way
to
turn
Standing
quite still,
listening
out for something
(or
Someone?)
to
point me in the direction
I
need to go;
right
fork, left, fork, or give up
and
turn back…
till
sounds of bright music
pointing
me at trees
making
the kind of mad jazz
that’s
a life force
Turning
my back
on fear, galvanised by nature
to
chase after life
as
a child might a butterfly
if
only because
it,
oh, so beats doing nothing,
going
nowhere,
being
no one, feeling sorry
for
the child self
that
never caught a butterfly
or
listened to jazz
Copyright R. N. Taber 2015
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