I kept asking him to explain
phrases he’d say
until he figured out
my level.

“I’m at ground level with theory, man,
but I’ve played for a long time.”

Cracked open some shell chords,
vamped on “Bag’s Groove”
My improvised minor penatonic
chorus got a big smile.

“It’s cool. Not a lot of my students
want to learn this stuff anymore.”

For the first time in years,
my fingers stared impatiently,
to my brain.