This here is Tommy Timmons

I’d play the way he plays.
I must lay my take because it only now makes sense to me;
As I listen to him now, I wish I actually learnt how to play the piano well.
I play ok
but can’t claim to be a player
though do consider myself a piano man- some affinity, whatever that may be.
Sometimes I feel I talk the way he plays
hopping through the syllables then alighting like chords back from lunar missions.
But somehow, Bobby goes somewhere else down there, at the keys, and I've been
listening all week but still can not figure it out.
S’posin’ I was to take up the piano- I’d do everything just like him
I’d take up smoking, between tunes lay on the stool
with the pack on my chest just to look cool
I’d dress well with a shirt and trousers, often hearing the rhythm not there.
I’d play until space conducted me a melody that collided the heavens with a hi-hat

and they would invite me to play in the roundhouse of Orion, and i’d play-
I’d play until I knew what it was that he knew, down there at the keys

I’d play.

In response to the Jazzlive Archive's Open Call for Writing
March 2021
2021, Poetry, Text, TicketOpenCall, Writing
Submitted by Tom Cherrie
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