UWS Slide

Hear that melancholy slide                                                                                                       of a jazz clarinet on the UWS? 

Endless books sold here for a dollar

titles thought unworthy of bother. 

Autumn whistles, wrestles lost leaves; 

foreheads wrinkle, people roll down sleeves. 

The player has talent; As Time Goes By.

Throw him a coin for an evening's lullaby.

A cap in his lap, but his name won't fly

like sparkles across a marque wide.

Hear that melancholy slide 

                  of a jazz clarinet on the UWS?

They've all got wishes to hide

behind day job desks, shirts well pressed,

walls of steal & loss of jest. 

Like the memory of a well lit flame,

eyes yearn for the familiar warmth of fame.

Who knows from where this idea came?

Keys to success, yet who guards the lock?

For now, meander a forgotten block.

Folk or funk or love will be playing

the price of Art, though no body's paying. 

Hear that melancholy slide 

                  of a jazz clarinet on the UWS?