LAST NIGHT IN PARADISE

 

Carlito Dumas didn’t leave his
drums at intermission,
just lit a cigarette and stared
into space

From our small candle-lit tables
some of us glanced at him —

Would he rattle off a jazzy solo
as a legacy, his
last night at the club?

But Carlito simply peered into
blue-pink clouds of smoke from
under his heavy
sunglasses

Or maybe his eyes were closed
as he dreamt of her soft brown hair,
her soft warm skin
down in Baton Rouge

His drums remained silent as turtles

 

 

 

NIGHT OF SMILES

 

When Kat Blue gave up playing
jazz clubs
he took to a tiny hotel room down
on Wilshire & Pico,
restroom & shower down the hall

Then came that one
impulsive time in the middle of the
night when
he blew his sax so loud & so long,
& most of the tenets smiled &
the winos clapped!

When the landlord came up he was
smiling too;
gave Kat his full room deposit & 8
dollars worth of food stamps –
had he a car, he would have given
that too

Sometimes the wailing blues goes a
long way

 

 

 

 

_____

Mike Faran lives in Ventura, Ca. as a retired lobster trap builder. He is the author of We Go To A Fire (Penury Press) and is a Pushcart Prize nominee. His work has been published in Atlanta Review, Rattle, The Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, and Slant.