Kermit’s Jazz -
Baton Rouge 1996 He’s got trumpet beats in his
frontal lobe rhythm bopping brain cells,
the neurons firing, synapses catching,
the whole thing some whacked out Fats Navarro
groove. Kermit was a black man from
Chicago who found himself living in
Louisiana stomping jazz on skins and
metal – He ate sweet potato pie for
breakfast. Fork to plate, foot to beat,
Kermit didn’t look for love he called it up and
entertained it made it jump and jive like a
tongue dipped in chilies. Who doesn’t desire that kind of heartburn, that
sweetened melody? The woman he’s with doesn’t
like jazz, but eats it just the
same. Originally published in Spillway |
