Miles Davis stood behind
the new tenor sax man,
hired for the album,
who thought
he was giving his soul
to the song, but Miles
growled in his ear,
“You already said that,”
and with a back scratcher
whacked at his back.
Tonight I said again
the same words
I always say—
come to dinner,
time for bed,
do your homework
brush your teeth,
sweet dreams—
and felt that old stick
on my back, heard
the gravel in the growl,
and when I turned
out the light I went ahead
and said the same old words
again anyway, but said ’em slow—
I love you—
the syllables lingering
in the dark, breathy,
warm, kinda blue.
(with thanks to Joel Long for the story about his sax teacher)