10-28-2023, 12:37 PM
The Musician
Always he returned to jazz
but the boys called him “saxo-phony”
cuz the way he bent that sax
dipped and died, straight from the horn's jaw —
eating the air like an ATV
flings dirt behind its wheels. But you
gotta understand, he thought
he was the cat's pajamas, Inuit’s
igloos, bee's knees or
just plain cool as a Q-
kumber. The way he made that horn weep —
lawless, he called it — full of gusto,
mayhem and not so original sin.
No one could blast it like Sam,
or wanted to. Except Sam Jr. That boy'd get all
popsicle and library book
quiet, like he was standing in the Taj
right as his pop let loose. And I
still don't understand, but oh
that boy wanted to play like Sam, pushing
ugly, twisted, torn and ruff.
Vicious how life
won't give nobody what they wanted.
X's and O's didn't go right in Jr.'s playbook, ya C.
Yeah he ended up in and out of rehab,
zonked out and lousy, of all places, in Florida.
Always he returned to jazz
but the boys called him “saxo-phony”
cuz the way he bent that sax
dipped and died, straight from the horn's jaw —
eating the air like an ATV
flings dirt behind its wheels. But you
gotta understand, he thought
he was the cat's pajamas, Inuit’s
igloos, bee's knees or
just plain cool as a Q-
kumber. The way he made that horn weep —
lawless, he called it — full of gusto,
mayhem and not so original sin.
No one could blast it like Sam,
or wanted to. Except Sam Jr. That boy'd get all
popsicle and library book
quiet, like he was standing in the Taj
right as his pop let loose. And I
still don't understand, but oh
that boy wanted to play like Sam, pushing
ugly, twisted, torn and ruff.
Vicious how life
won't give nobody what they wanted.
X's and O's didn't go right in Jr.'s playbook, ya C.
Yeah he ended up in and out of rehab,
zonked out and lousy, of all places, in Florida.