Sitting in the café with friends,
listening to the upbeat cadence of a Bird tune
pulsating through the room, whiskey's fiery tongue
tripling on the triplets of the sharp brassy jazz sound.
Tap
Tap
Tapping her foot on the floor,
ticking her nails against the icy glass
Right on the two and four.
Transported back to a time
When, as young children,
Instead of kissing behind the bleachers
They inhaled their sandwiches
with great anticipation
of the collective groove they would soon create
Oh the room, how it percolated
with yeahs! And woos!
Bouncing off the foam walls
As each one ripped through their solo
That brass section is gassy!
Here comes the sax soli
And the rhythm section has the groove in the pocket
Traveling, winning awards, and infecting audiences
Giving them a grade-A soul vaccination
Every Tuesday after school,
the children made a maiden voyage to Oaktown
In search of a higher groove
To find hours and hours of harmonies
Among all ages all colors all religions
This voyage, though they did not know it then,
Would take them beyond their years and time together
Across oceans and through different foreign tongues
Sometimes in faraway places
yet always reminding them, bringing them back home
Back to the Bay
She sits and things - how marvelous it is
To be hearing the sounds of home faraway
here in this little enclave high in the Andes
She is caught up in nostalgic thoughts
and syncopated movements
When someone opens the door,
causing the maroon mist of memory to disperse
She is transported forward to the present
Back within herself, hack to her foreign body,
Her foreign nationality
Who are you and where did you come from?
She wonders, half asking herself and half asking the newcomer,
Who has been caught up in the whirring frenzy of arrival
The tranquility of the dolphin's dance has rudely ceased
She looks into the glass, focusing on the rhythmic clinking
Tlink clink of the ice cubes along with the cymbals
The golden glow of the whiskey gleaming in unison with the horns
The room reharmonizes to incorporate the new stranger
and a new sound is born
Transforming, shifting, and undulating to somethin' else
A new feeling, a new affect that is easily read upon the face
Dissonance and resonance ring through
Hitting dep going beyond the boundaries of physical space
the right chord payed at the right moment,
with the right intention and the right feel
Can change a person forever
Can move across the cultural valleys flowing rivers of languages
Can fool you into thinking you are home
She sat listening and absorbing the waves
Strangely transfixed
Enchanted by the prelude to a memory
opening up countless possibilities
Countless places countless faces
Thanks to the maiden voyage of a dream
A dream that is fleeting and yet never dies.
A dream of home near and far.
listening to the upbeat cadence of a Bird tune
pulsating through the room, whiskey's fiery tongue
tripling on the triplets of the sharp brassy jazz sound.
Tap
Tap
Tapping her foot on the floor,
ticking her nails against the icy glass
Right on the two and four.
Transported back to a time
When, as young children,
Instead of kissing behind the bleachers
They inhaled their sandwiches
with great anticipation
of the collective groove they would soon create
Oh the room, how it percolated
with yeahs! And woos!
Bouncing off the foam walls
As each one ripped through their solo
That brass section is gassy!
Here comes the sax soli
And the rhythm section has the groove in the pocket
Traveling, winning awards, and infecting audiences
Giving them a grade-A soul vaccination
Every Tuesday after school,
the children made a maiden voyage to Oaktown
In search of a higher groove
To find hours and hours of harmonies
Among all ages all colors all religions
This voyage, though they did not know it then,
Would take them beyond their years and time together
Across oceans and through different foreign tongues
Sometimes in faraway places
yet always reminding them, bringing them back home
Back to the Bay
She sits and things - how marvelous it is
To be hearing the sounds of home faraway
here in this little enclave high in the Andes
She is caught up in nostalgic thoughts
and syncopated movements
When someone opens the door,
causing the maroon mist of memory to disperse
She is transported forward to the present
Back within herself, hack to her foreign body,
Her foreign nationality
Who are you and where did you come from?
She wonders, half asking herself and half asking the newcomer,
Who has been caught up in the whirring frenzy of arrival
The tranquility of the dolphin's dance has rudely ceased
She looks into the glass, focusing on the rhythmic clinking
Tlink clink of the ice cubes along with the cymbals
The golden glow of the whiskey gleaming in unison with the horns
The room reharmonizes to incorporate the new stranger
and a new sound is born
Transforming, shifting, and undulating to somethin' else
A new feeling, a new affect that is easily read upon the face
Dissonance and resonance ring through
Hitting dep going beyond the boundaries of physical space
the right chord payed at the right moment,
with the right intention and the right feel
Can change a person forever
Can move across the cultural valleys flowing rivers of languages
Can fool you into thinking you are home
She sat listening and absorbing the waves
Strangely transfixed
Enchanted by the prelude to a memory
opening up countless possibilities
Countless places countless faces
Thanks to the maiden voyage of a dream
A dream that is fleeting and yet never dies.
A dream of home near and far.
