GARNELL

A Prose Poem Portrait

We'd been friends for over ten years. He had been my entree into black culture, gaining my admiration for a people I soon considered the true lost soul and spirit of America. 

I envied him his fierce , no-holds-barred approch to life. I admired his easy carousing with both rich and poor, his fierce pride of standing up to racial slurs and attacks from the cops. (several times his insolent behavior landed him in jail)

He envied me my straight hair,  my whiteness that allowed me to slide through society without much hassle, and what he called my "depth"--the way I looked at the world unhindered by society's rules and stereotypes.

He loved the dope and booze and they slowed him down, wasted his musical talent and mathematical genius (when he was working he was a much-in-demand computer programmer). A tall, slim man with a gentling voice and a manner of such expressive grace and stalwart charm it could dazzle you like an innovative riff from Charlie Parker's horn.

Women fell hopelessly in love with him,. worshipped him for awhile, then left him in the torture of his dope and alcohol addictions. (once I even turned him on to my ex-girlfriend and they had an affair for awhile)

His dream? I think it was to be a great saxophone player. I loved to watch him take up (when it wasn't in hock!) his awesomely shining golden horn, lift his head, and astonish me with a fusillade of riveting melodies--just like Bird I used to think. And if someone asked him to slide onto a piano bench and play something, he'd gracefully attack the chords of  the song like he was making deep-felt love to the girl of his dreams: Indeed he often capped a rendition with a crane of his neck and one of his lecherous leers. 

Sometimes he'd get a little bit funny, a lighted cigarette dangling from his lips,and in a wet, growly voice hypnotize you with his own mischievous take on a song's lyrics. 

Any street he'd walk down he'd meet up with friends. It seemed the whole world knew him--just like he was famous. But he wasn't. Yet he was friends with Etta, with Donna, with a bunch I can't recall. He wanted to be famous.

But he never made it.