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I've been trying to write a poem for a competition - jazz poem for 'extempore' magazine. This came up, which isn't a competition winner type poem, but still I think has some value. In saying that, I feel it still can be improved a lot, so I throw it in the ring to see if you have any ideas. One thing you may not know is, 'Salt Peanuts' was a hit for Dizzy Gillespie decades back, and some bop bands use it as a sign-off piece at the end of brackets. Breakfast Nowhere Special (title) Greasy spoon breakfast in a wintry café at dawn. We play dark corners, big towns, little towns, by the perennial park where the war memorial stands and the homeless drink. A bleak life with scant reward — they’re escaping nine-to-five, the rat race, just like us. We play hard bop born in a USA cellar. Last night we were Miles and Trane, Elvin and Monk — now we’re shrinking into our own skins, mumbling smoky midnight echoes, Phoebe with us, androgynous, on edge, in catsuit and wig. George reckons she’s a guy, and Jean-Paul is writing her into a suite. We’re coming down over beans and bacon, tipping whisky into our tea when the guy’s not looking. Shades hide our eyes where smoke and stage lights left bleeding tracks. Our next stop is a regional centre, built for ballet and opera but needing funds. Cash is always popular. ‘Yeah! Salt peanuts!’ Paul shouts, slapping the table, and we all laugh. We want the world to know we were cooking last night, we were _someone_ up there. Now, here, paradiddling in a drear city dawn, we hang out to keep the dream drumming. * All comments welcome. PS: With Hal's permission I put his poem up on my blog.Take a look if you have a moment. Andrew http://hispirits.blogspot.com/ 'Mother Waits for Father Late' republished available at http://www.picaropress.com/ http://www.qlrs.com/poem.asp?id=766 http://frankshome.org/AndrewBurke.html