The club was cool, laid back, and really slick;
Art Deco styled, but chromed and black and glowing.
Too bad the cigarette smoke was making me sick,
Cos now the excitement in the crowd was growing.
I strolled across the polished wooden floor
Through the tables to the music stage.
I carried up a Bach sinfonia score,
Loose, but careful not to drop one page.
My reeds were soaking in a glass of Coke;
I fetched ’em out and set ’em in my horn.
They’re laughing now at someone’s clever joke.
For just a moment, I feel old and worn.
But when I raise the old horn to my lips,
I’m young again, within the Muses’ grips.
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About Michael Butchin
I was born, according to the official records, in the Year of the Ram, under the Element of Fire, when Johnson ruled the land with a heavy heart; in the Cradle of Liberty, to a family of bohemians.
I studied Chinese language and literature at Rutgers University, New Brunswick. I spent some years in Taiwan teaching kindergarten during the day, and ESOL during the evenings. I currently work as a high school ESOL teacher, and am an unlikely martial artist.
I have spent much of my life amongst actors, singers, movie stars, beautiful cultists, Taoist immortals, renegade monks, and at least one martial arts tzaddik.
I currently reside in Beijing's Dongcheng district
Nudnik Online 