C Jam Blues

C Jam Blues

Hoppin’, boppin’.
Strollin’ along.
Who is this cat?

Is he the bass,
layin’ down that smooth beat?
The piano, weavin’
highlights in and out?

No, man.
He’s the sax,
with places to go
and people to see.
He ain’t sittin’ still
for nothin’.

But what’s with this
crossing, his route
takin’ him
where he don’t belong,
headin’ north where
I-70’s goin’ more than 70?

But there he goes,
that armadillo startled jump,
straight up as a pickup
passes right over him.

So there he lies
feet up, his shell
flattened as a semi
crosses his path.

And this jam ends,
a long fade out
of a wail,
as if Mingus knows.

It’s been a busy day, including a 2+ hour drive to read at Savannah’s Coffee Corral in Pevely, MO (south of St. Louis), but I’m home in time to post my April-poem-a-day just under the midnight wire (Central Time). On the 60 mile (or so) stretch of I-70 heading east towards St. Louis, I must have seen a half-dozen armadillo roadkill. Of course, by the time we got to our destination I wrote this poem, listening to Mingus at Carnegie Hall Live (C Jam Blues).

Shared with Day Twenty-two at napowrimo.net (off prompt)

Image source: Wikimedia Commons

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