October 6, 2011

Far Away

In San Francisco      
there is a radio station that my radio geek likes.
He listens faithfully each Sunday night.
The station plays live jazz.
One night our son played.

Drums, in a symphonic jazz number, are slight.
Keeping the beat in the background,
hidden by the the improvs up front.

I didn't realize that Charlie Parker wrote the
old/new jazz for orchestras,
but it makes sense.
He was the original original.
In jazz.

We heard our son, though,
just a few ghost notes and
quiet flams.

We knew it was him (he).
He played in our house 
for 10 years.
We readily recognize his chops.

And then I cried.
I miss him, I suddenly realized.

New York City is just too far away.


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