MORNINGS ON MAPLE STREET

HOME | ABOUT JOE MANNING | TABLE OF CONTENTS | ARTICLES, STORIES & POEMS | NORTH ADAMS, MASS. | LEWIS HINE PROJECT | PHOTO GALLERY | OLD NEWSPAPER ARTICLES | OLD PHOTOS PROJECT | BOOKS & CDS | LINKS

Gig At The Amtrak

Gig At The Amtrak
 
I was rudely awakened by a man
   who set down his suitcase
   next to the bench I was sleeping on.
If it wasn't for all these travelers,
   I could get some rest.
I checked to see if my horn was there and
   found my left hand still squeezing
   the handle on the case.
I took out the horn and looked inside and
   there were still some notes left in it.
Some college kid with a guitar sat down and
   asked me if I played and
   I said, "A little bit, I guess."
 
I saw two men come in carrying briefcases and
   wearing gray suits and it got me to thinking
   that it's a long time since I've been in a bank.
So I put my horn back in the case and
   went down to the biggest bank I could find and
   they were playing some stupid arrangement of
   "Round Midnight" on the Musak and it made me mad
   so I got out my horn and blew a few licks and
   then they told me to leave,
   so I did.
I'm always leaving places.
 
I hadn't eaten yet,
   so I walked back home and
   a train pulled in just as I got there and
   and crowd of people poured in
   so I pulled out my horn and started playing and
   two women came over and put some change
   in my horn case and I stopped playing and
   bought a Danish and a cup of coffee.
 
One of the women came back and asked me to play
   something by the Duke so I played "Sophisticated Lady"
   which I thought was sort of funny and I think she caught it.
Then her husband came over and pretty soon there
   was a small crowd and I imagined I was playing again
   with Miles and Trane and then I heard the change dropping
   into my horn case and I remembered where I was.
Someone applauded and then everyone applauded and
   some guy walked up to me and said I sounded like Hank Mobley.
 
I counted my change and
   went down to Tony's for a cheesesteak. 
 
 

This poem is dedicated to the memory of the great tenor sax man Hank Mobley. Click the link below for more information.

Hank Mobley

Next poem

Back to Poems

joe@sevensteeples.com