mon ami gabi

there was an old
trio in mon ami gabi
the other night
in bethesda, silver
hair, or no hair,
a paunch on two,
and the other one bone
thin, lanky and lean,
with his clothes
just hanging on him.
he was on the drums,
his eyes half closed.
but they could play,
jazz, and blues,
their fingers blistering
fast and smooth
on the bass,
the sax, deep and
tender, slight smiles on
their lined faces,
they've been playing
like this for decades,
you could tell, not
missing a note,
as tight as a trio
could be, it was
wonderous and warm
as the night went on
and the wine was
poured and the food
kept coming, they
kept playing and
playing and made me
wish that you were there.