Just So Many Trips Back
I remember,
Standing with my father
In front of the Sunset
On East 35th street
While he smoked a muggle,
I listening to Jimmie's clarinet
Float from the second floor window
Across the street at the Apex Club
I watched young Benny climb the stairs
Performing his nightly research
He would carry on the journey
that was the rest of his life.
I told this to the boy
Sitting with me here at the park
On a muggy day and looking
like it will storm.
He tells me I should go back now,
But I can not just yet
Given you only get just
so many trips back
And I am long past my share.
He wonders out loud why people
seem to be always on the
verge of screeming,
Especially when you smile at them?
I pretend I do not know, but it's
all about having a place to go.
When I came back from the war
I went straight to the hop house
basement matress.
I took up permanent residence there
Until the Maggie of my childhood
Took me by the hand and whispered
in my ear that it was time
to go back now.
I ask the boy if he feels any need
to screem these days.
He tells me that before he didn't
know how
And that now he does not want to.
He says its all about just wanting
to hear yourself
And he has the cornet for that.
When my father finished his smoke
We listened to Louis and Fatha Hines
play a walking shoe blues.
The voices I heard in my head were
full of mischief in those days
and damn near killed me.
The boy points towards the darkness
And tells me we are pressing our luck.
I tell him,
Given you get just so many trips back
Its best we just ride out the storm.
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