Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Moment of Jazz


Walking on the hot humid streets of Montreal I followed the sounds coming from the heart of the city. At the edge I heard blues on one corner and a classical guitar on the other moving in harmony.
A dancer in the middle of the street moves seductively to the rhythm of mambo and a couple swings into view to a rock and roll tune. A mime plays air guitar his lips moving to a John Lennon song.
The first beer is cold and smooth.
Walking by the jugglers and the prince, I made my way through the bright crowd. The hard raunchy sound of an electric guitar laid down a beat, the lead guitar cuts its way upwards to the sky. Boom, the bass and the drums filled the background and we moved closer to the stage in the distance. A joint was pressed into my hand and I inhaled its promise of mystery and peace.
Trails of smoke, voice and sound, reaching out from the band, touching, choosing. Sticks flying, keys pounding, the flicker of fingers on strings of steel.
She appeared, her hand on my shoulder. That touch, that gentle squeeze from years and years ago, she had been with me, here. Empty were the streets then and the rain fell upon us as we embraced and we sang our first song together.
Her hand touched my face and we kissed forever. Our arms tight around our bodies. Unable to get closer.
Time clicked away its seconds. The world turned. The crowd applauded.
We disappeared. Out of existence. In light, in sound, inner space, we were all alone. In love.
No music but our own. The pulsing sound of our heart and soul. We melted together. Sitting on a length of driftwood...floating on and on and on.
Coming, coming.
The sound, then the light and the images getting closer and closer. 
All the beautiful people. We danced within the space they gave us.
Before I die, I will love you again.
Ron Mahedy

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