***Poet’s Corner- Langston Hughes 

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

February is Black History Month

One-Easy Boogle 

… he spied her across the room the minute he came in the door, eyed her up and down, and then down and up, and while he was too much of a gentleman to lick his chops that is almost instinctively what he thought to do when he saw a honey like that attracted him. He also knew if she had seen him in such a foolish pose he would be sleeping alone that night or with some cheap pick-up floozy ready to roll over for a guy with some dough, some good liquor and reefer, and a line of patter to get her out of her panties (not hard when it came to floozy time he knew, knew only too well). There she was not so much beautiful as fetching, and a fetching woman, long and tall, slender legs, well-turned ankles, blondish-brown hair (although as the advertisements said who really knew), long eyelashes (from what he could tell) covering blue eyes, in the long haul was usually preferable. Yes, one look at her, one once-over (really twice over if you count the down and up) told him that she was built for the long haul, told him too that he needed to be cool, cool enough to stay a little aloof while she was up at the stand in front of that band, Sammy Sway's aggregation, and  singing, singing All Of Me like some god-struck angel face. So now that he had stopped looking her up and down he had to start to figure out what he needed to do when intermission time came.

He knew for instance, that she would require scotch, high-shelf scotch, to soothe those tender vocal cords like some magic elixir. He liked to speculate on the brand; here it seemed to require Haig &Haig Royal Bonded to aid his cause. (He was right when he asked the waitress what she was drinking when he sent a drink over to her table at intermission, and plenty of it too, judging by the way she drank the drink in front of her between songs). He thought about whether she would want to be complimented on her clothes.(She did, talking for a little too long about it, about high hems, about he problems of slender figures and clothes, something about feathers, boas or something that he faded on, until he moved the subject on to her music, that blues jazz mix that she had down pat, very pat). Or whether telling her that she had a fine body (nice shoulders, slim waist, etc.), nice legs, nice well-turned ankles, nice hair, nice, fill in the blank, or any combination of nices, would get him any place. (It did, as she gave him even more meaningful looks as they talked, only to be stopped by the call for the next set from Sammy, the hovering combo leader). And of whether he should ask right then whether she wanted a nightcap with him elsewhere later or ask her  at the end of the evening. (End of the evening, a wise choice since she kept giving him meaningful little smiles from the stage over to his now upfront seat to keep the mood up throughout that last performance.)

Preliminaries over as she headed back up to the stage he once again listened to that angel-voice, listened to her phrasing, listened for the pause between the phrasing, and then that slight little snarl of the upper lip as she went into her own blues-drenched version of Rock Me Baby, and looking right at him, right directly at him, when she sang long drawn out phrasing sang, “rock me all night long.”(After that nightcap at Jimmy's, some verbal foreplay, a momentary pause by him, him of all people, just in case he had his signals wrong. they went to her place. He did, and she did too, rock all night long that is if anybody was wondering.)

… and hence this be-bop poem in celebration

Easy Boogie

Down in the bass

That steady beat

Walking walking walking

Like marching feet.

Down in the bass

They easy roll,

Rolling like I like it

In my soul.

Riffs, smears, breaks.

Hey, Lawdy Mama!

Do you hear what I said?

Easy like I rock it

In my bed!