Into The Night

CATEGORY

life

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They dismissed him as dumb Just another Negro with a shaky hand. A stringy goatee his shirt half tucked A dark hat leaning to the left side of his head That hat seemed like it was made for him Covering dark gray wool He went from club to club longing for acceptance. They misunderstood the croon that old saxophone had to offer. Many laughed Musicians kicked him from the stage Chasing him with drum sticks Chastising the way he looked They didn't understand the impediment coming from that horn. His sound fell on deaf ears. Cigerette ashes blown stray in the wind. He came from a grudgeful womb His father nowhere to be found He once wrote a letter to heaven but heard no reply Nothing more than a junkie Feigning for a hit they thought shooing him away discarding him as if he were nothing Telling him to never come back. Words he's heard even from mama. He played a chord higher than most It often screeched when it hit it's peak An orgasm of sorts His fingers well versed Far beyond their years Full of vigor. The nights dreaming at the old train yard Still They paid no mind Shooing him away as if he were a fly He never made it past the first set without disfigured faces They labeled him an outcast Fueling an fire unseen behind those blue laced eyes. Tall, lanky he searched for a place to belong Arms swinging between the ladder of the sidewalk. Everywhere he went was the same Often alone with the echo of songs in his head A redemption of light casting through shadow He had to get them out. Some place, some how they had to be heard Soon he had nowhere to go Barred from if not all, quite most of the clubs he knew. If not there, there was an alternative. One no one thought, at least he thought. A moment ripe with opportunity I'll get them back. Break bad if they'd like I'll get them one by one He waited the night after Before the club became packed Tarnished saxophone in the dull moon light He grabbed an old bucket and sat outside a few inches before the entrance of the club and began to play He played that horn as loud as he could Drawing any listening ear that walked past. The stars shone bright, awakened by the sound of that old saxophone crooned. Those fingers played with all their might Gasps of air flowed continuously into that horn Hips rolled Arms swayed Others stood in a sophisticated fashion Many stopped and watched He gained so much attention that the club owner came out in awe Watching those fingers work as the devil. Sweat beaded down his forehead, he paid it no mind Dried memories of past thoughts Shirt soaked in sweat Those fingers worked like the devil That old sax screeched mellow and smooth Calming down in a mellow lullaby Outplaying the musicians that shooed him away from outside the club An incredible sight to witness. It wasn't long before the other musicians came out with their instruments They began to play but his saxophone played the longest Ushering him further into the world of addiction Jazz riffs played smooth under the cool moon light Following his lead they tried to play but couldn't keep up with his style They grew frustrated as the same disfigured faces looked upon them in disgust Telling them they needed to go back inside Mad, they sat in silence until he was done. Once finished they clapped they stormed him with admiration waiting to know more about him They asked his name He kept silent standing up from his bucket The club owner walked up offering him a job to be the band leader replacing the old one that shooed him in the first place spreading all those nasty rumors about him He kept quiet walking off into the gleaming stars of the night Following the row of street lights into the sound of the train that rung from afar