Aren't enough
to forestall the crashing financial headaches
or late night battles over unused toothbrushes
unmunched lunches, lights not shut, surfaces not swept
or the existential morass surrounding the kid's sagging pants.
Even your "promised touch of springtime"
can't protect us from the terrible job Leo did on the roof
that caused the flood next to the garbage cans
which culminated in the tragic call to the roofer
who really and truly fell.
I wonder if I ever told you
there was a time when ripping through
the chord changes of this old song afforded a guy
a place of honor among young jazzers .
How back then, Sam Furnace was my go-to pilot
sitting next to me at the Henry Street big band
alto strapped to his side all the things he was
achingly elegant, quiet, focuseda study in fire.
Who could imagine
that one day we'd attach those headphones
to his fragile bluegrey head
five short months after the bad news.
Mobley, Griffin and Coltrane singing
him into the "breathless hush of evening
from their golden bells.
Truth is, "Things" change.
And the song was never a favorite
just another river to flop around in.
Another impossible lawn
made greener by someone else's eight notes
Today when we were cooking oatmeal
I heard Sonny Criss drive his Selmer
through the "Angel glow that lights a star" line
and I marveled at the metaphorical power of stars.
How they rise above the bridges of all these old tunes.
Even glistening above our most tragic roofs.
And I wondered what star big Sam ended up on
and whether or not he stuck with the Lamberson mouthpiece
or switched back to the Selmer C Star
opting for a slightly thinner line
to thread a breathless heaven.
