Bringing Jazz to the Honkytonks

Trudging down thru the cold, crowded sidewalks

Just past the guitar twangs echoing out of Robert’s Western World

Towards his favorite spot near Margaritaville

A thin gloved Saxophonist plays out into the tourist revelry

They give him an appreciative nod to his jazzy songs

Some dance a little jig as they pass by

Some throw spare bills and coins into his velvet lined case

One lady asks for a hug as if to get closer to his youth

“That’s my song!” another drunken passerby says

(Whatever melody will keep the melancholy away)

Tonight he turned fifteen

Tonight he plays for the world

For Mark Kaufman