Long As You're Living
I'm busy as a bus.
Ten hours on the telephone, research resources,
school staff, counsel clients.
Then invite Lorraine downtown, the lovely loyal
secretary, to hear new jazz band. By taxi,
not subway tonight.
I've never been to this place before
but love the women in their dresses and make-up.
In New York, they smell wild. Elsewhere
women are ranchers and gardeners. Anyway,
we get a small table in the crowd,
order drinks. The band is four young black men.
Lorraine is black too, by the way.
We get up to dance and I leave my cowboy boots
under the table. I've always enjoyed
the way Lorraine puts her arms around me.
I'm the oldest cat in the place
which is frightening
since just fifteen years ago I was the youngest.
I wink at the trumpet player in a fairly abandoned way
who comes over to our table between sets.
He likes Lorraine. They jukebox it.
She falls in love.
Copyright 2017 by Robert Ronnow.