Monday, November 19, 2012

Club Indigo



image borrowed from bing


Club Indigo

Hipness isn’t a state of mind,
it’s a fact of life.”--Cannonball Adderley

The Club was smoky-dark, 
layered with Lucky Strikes, 
Havana cigars
and a teasing whiff of cannabis, 

like stepping lively out of a time capsule
into 1940’s Harlem, those sexy ladies
in low-cut dresses down front, their
pushed up breasts lovely pink whorls
bulging up from rough-purple brocade bodices,
their smiling shallow eyes seemingly deep-set
behind mascara and golden glitter,
several vintage steam radiators popping
and snapping like hot fingers to the jazzy beat;

the tall chanteuse stood beanpole upright,
all light-skinned honey brown inside her
tight black dress, a deep purple osteopermum
clipped jauntily into her long corn-rowed locks,
her blood red lips moist from sensual warbling;

the music developing into West African rhythms,
all hand-beaten drums, deep alto saxing
and shrill frightening licorice stick--with
a fat bear in a green fedora at the piano,
chipping away at the boss brass lead.

I sat there alone at a back table,
open-collared behind red Ray-Bans,
sucking hard on a complimentary mint
to counterpoint the smoker’s pungent mist,
feeling a bit like a potato gnocchi floating
in a pan of chocolate froth, like a white
daisy in a field of dark daffodils,

yet deliciously doused in several flavors
of indeterminate joy as it became prolific,
tripling, going viral just as the torch singer
hit the high notes, the horn's bleating meshed,
the drummer slammed the snare, and
the piano player plinked the atonal keys,
leaving me weeping as tears of gratitude
appeared from behind tinted lenses,
thankful for my jumping jazz allotment,
safe there in the beautiful darkness
tapping the last note with my forefinger
as love honey-dripped over us                                  
and racism exited the building.


Glenn Buttkus

November 2012

Posted over on dVerse Poets OLN

Would you like to hear the author read this poem to you?




16 comments:

De Jackson (WhimsyGizmo) said...

Glenn, I read all things containing the word "Indigo" whenever possible, and this did not disappoint. ;)

I especially LOVE:

"deliciously doused in several flavors
of indeterminate joy"

de

Paul Bauck said...


Love the images.
Paul

Anonymous said...

Hot and Tight and Steamy

Shawna said...

Good golly, Glenn. This is one of your best! Delicious ... dripping honey indeed. Your title makes me think of Club Silencio, since we just watched Mulholland Drive a couple of nights ago.

Excellent (and true) opening quote. I really like your format of using a quote as an introduction.

These are my favorite sections:

"bulging up from rough-purple brocade bodices, their smiling shallow eyes seemingly deep-set"

"several vintage steam radiators popping"

"all light-skinned honey brown inside her"

"moist from sensual warbling"

"all hand-beaten drums, deep alto saxing"

"sucking hard on a complimentary mint"

"in a pan of chocolate froth, like a white daisy in a field of dark daffodils"

"prolific, tripling, going viral"

"the drummer slammed the snare"

And what an incredible ending:
"tapping the last note with my forefinger as love honey-dripped over us and racism exited the building."

Brian Miller said...

dang bro...next time you go hear the music you need to bring me along...you really set the scene well and bring it and the music to life...wicked good write man...

Claudia said...

rasism exited the building...love this...music makes us equal doesn't it...love how you capture the atmosphere and i swear i heard that sax

Natasha Head said...

THIS...

I sat there alone at a back table,
open-collared behind red Ray-Bans,
sucking hard on a complimentary mint
to counterpoint the smoker’s pungent mist,
feeling a bit like a potato gnocchi floating
in a pan of chocolate froth, like a white
daisy in a field of dark daffodils,

THIS is why I love your writing. I want to be at that table...to see the contrast disappear...to see the music come to life, to feel it in my bones, to be one with the moment, the mood, the atmosphere...and damn....I look FINE in ray-bans! ;)Seriously honored to enjoy this ride word weaver...and time for me to bust out the old vinyl

RMP said...

you paint such an amazing picture both with your words and your voice. Listening to you read, I got lost as easily as I'm certain you got lost in the sultry tones of jazz and the seductive atmosphere of Club Indigo.

manicddaily said...

A wonderfully atmospheric feel here - from the mint to the smoky lungs and air! k.

Anna Montgomery said...

Honeyed tongues lapping up atmosphere like it's the new drug. Your poem intoxicates and transforms. Delicious.

Mama Zen said...

Absolutely divine!

Steve E said...

Really liked this whole scene, man. The lastatanza/paragraph particularlt got me. Your decription of each musician's contribution--to the whole "painting"--and your own emotional response are the kind of words I save and paste, so that I can read again and again and smile!

(I do have a folder for that.)
PEACE!

Sabio Lantz said...

Fantastic -- it put me at a table sipping gin.

seacamels said...

Glenn,

This was stupendous fun—and you read it so damn well! It’s worth reading first and then listening and you get different shades, and beats and nuances. And, of course, totally sexy and jazzy. And the message needs no further discussion. Perfect.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Lovely stuff Glenn (and your reading added wonderful atmosphere).

"safe there in the beautiful darkness tapping the last note with my forefinger as love honey-dripped over us and racism exited the building."

- what a perfect ending.

Anna :o]

Anonymous said...

There are some interesting points in time in this article but I don’t know if I see all of them center to heart. There is some validity but I will take hold opinion until I look into it further. Good article , thanks and we want more! Added to FeedBurner as well


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