This was one of those poems that didn’t need re-writing. It just fell into place.
It was the summer of 2005, and my wife, Phyllis, and I were at Jazz Fest, downtown. It was a beautiful, starry night, and we were over by Walton Street, by the Museum of Science and Technology. They had a big band playing jazz, and there were a lot of outdoor tables set up, and people were eating, and waiters and waitresses were almost skating back and forth with the food.
Phyllis and I had grabbed a sandwich earlier, but it was inside, not outside, and it was just a little something, not a meal. This was later, after most people had had the main meal, and they were into dessert mode. And I thought, I don’t need any dessert, because the music is so sweet.
Beneath many stars
diners feast on sweet music
in Armory Square
