Sax

This is a part of a bar series that I wrote during the summer of 2004. I will be posting the rest of the series as I find the time to do it. Enjoy!

(I know this goes without saying, but please don't copy and/or distribute anything that I write without my permission. Thanks! -Gigi)

***

Outside the dank smoky pool hall stood a figure in the shadows. He was not there to gamble or to drink or to find another. He wasn’t there to be seen or touched or talked to. He did not come alone. In his hands he held his one and only friend.

Like a lover, his lips wrapped around the tip of his saxophone and breathed life into the instrument of his passion. His fingers caressed every inch of the body, eliciting hungry moans of pleasure with his every breath. With each new stroke of the man’s fingers the saxophone responded with eager resonance. Together, man in shadow and saxophone glinting in the moonlight, the two made love, sending the sounds of their passion up around the street lamps, over the rusted out tops of old cars and through the open windows of the lonely.

While the man never sought to be seen, the saxophone begged to be heard. Where one could not bear to express his heart in the open, the other could not bear to hide. They were the perfect compliment to each other, coming together in a slow methodical tempo, only reaching crescendo after every inch of the saxophone had been explored and realized by the man. And when that final explosion took place, all those that experienced the momentous buildup released a collective sigh.

The music touched all who heard it, invaded their souls and commanded their attention. Jazz is a needy lover and, while the man and his saxophone needed each other, the music required the attention of everyone. It was an emotion, a reaction, and existed only if there was a witness to its unending demands. Just as the man needed the saxophone, the music needed the audience, the shadow needed the streetlamp, and the soul needed a place to hide.