Even as Ron Carter plays ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’

Even as Ron Carter plays ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’

In my ears, the chaos

Of the atrium seeps through

The wedding guests from last night sit

Hunched over handheld devices, glassy-eyed

Thumbing through drunken messages

Written in haste

Photographs they can’t remember taking.

The band members sit

Trying to look cool

But it was a wedding gig, not Glastonbury

They had slept well apparently

And enjoyed the buffet breakfast.

Being barely noon doesn't stop a few hardy boys

From ordering a round of lagers

The day is getting off to a good start.

At the next table

The talk is about old Bob

‘He is legendary’

With hollow legs apparently

Even at seventy-five, he can still drink

The rest of them under the table.

‘You don’t have to clean up after him.’

Said a little old thing with a white face

As she added a touch of powder to her nose.

Face powder, I presumed

Not the other kind

But you never can tell,

Her eyes were still sharp

And it was my guess, so was her tongue.

A few big guys wandered through

The crowd, making for the gym

Nobody spoke as they passed by

But opened right up once they were gone,

They may have been a crew

Whatever that is.

So many of these guys would be pirates

Given the choice

Between the Caribbean

Or Waltham Abbey on a wet Saturday morning.

I might sail off with them

Bonnie Rait is driving on

Right down the line

As I come back to myself,

It was always you

Right down the line

Equilibrium is restored.