Manolo Plays Sax

You wouldn’t be able to tell

He’s always got a glass in his hand

And he’s someplace raising hell

 

He’s never on the stage

And he’s always playing calm

When he’s built up all kinds of rage

 

He’s clocking you quick

And knocking you down

If you change the jukebox song he picked

 

He only owns one dress suit

And he wears it all the time

Strangers think he’s out of his mind

 

You wouldn’t be able to read him

The best and beautiful woman

Fall for him as quick as they leave him

 

He’s a sad drinker and smoker

But he’s got a golden heart

And can be quite the joker

 

He hates the whole wide world

But dances every weekend

With a different girl

 

He does it all in one dress suit

With the memory of a love that passed

Manolo plays the sax

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i like this...he is who he is...one suit, one direction in life, no matter what he plays or how he plays or where he plays, he is a golden heart, and i imagine his sax playing is as haunting and beautiful...

in the fifth stanza i read that line as "The best and beautiful women"

this is so bluesy....i felt the mix of rage and calm...and wonder if he will ever get the chance to really release what is inside.

[Cris Roley]

Thanks again, I enjoy the way you break the poetry down, it's nice to see them from other perspectives. Happy reading!

[rudelizard]

Amazing portrayal. I've known a couple of Manolos and this describes them perfectly. I don't know enough about style and form to offer that kind of feedback, but I can say that I truly enjoyed this piece. Excellent work Cris!

[Cris Roley]

Thank you Rude Lizard, I'm glad you liked it!