More Jazz Cats + “be ready to write”

Jazz cats riffing and sniffing
dust off dark bar counters
The bass player sharpens knives
on his own alcoholic obliteration
Headlights snap-p-p-p off like christmas
ornaments as the trumpets herald
Here in the dark the cats gather
Age old cats, those that survive,
their old narrow eyes
observe the city changing
Mike, a known cat, got the gig
for them, they sit curled around,
their instruments, in low lights together
with one another and going different places
■ ■ ■ ■ ■
”be ready to write”

being ready to write is hardly ever the issue.

I would throw myself on the pen.

My mind is not cleared.

I swing a mental chair in my mental ring, around around, windmill style, clearing space. The hot white lights of the arena bare down, my eyes and the crowd is empty. There are no seats even, the arena collapses down from the back, folding like an Ikea shelf, and I am standing in the grass again, the air is soft, I close my eyes.