Bending Notes - March 17 2024

 

Bending Notes

March 17 2024

They placed me in vocal class.

Which wasn’t, as you’d imagine, for those who sang beautifully,

but rather the tin eared and tone deaf.

The non-musicians

an instrument

wasn't worth wasting on,

the rejects

who couldn’t carry a tune.

The sort of class I’d skip,

or spend kibitzing in the back row.

Where, like a broken clock

that's accurate twice a day

I’d sometimes hit the note;

but mostly

just mouth the words.

Secretly wishing

that I could sing,

but resigned

to becoming a listener.

If I could only play the saxophone;

bend a note,

and hit the high ones

with that sweet rounded tone.

Cradle in my arms

its sensuous curves,

immerse myself

in the give and take

of a jazz conversation;

handing-off to the guitar,

making space

for the solo piano

stand-up bass.

But all I do is hum

or sing under my breath.

Close my eyes, and listen

to the music in my head.