(a true story on visit to the Baltimore Inner Harbor on a hot Summer Day.)

Free hand drawling of Jimi Hendrix,
fashioned somewhere between caricature and Mattisse. I watched him
sketch it from a book at a table in Barnes and Noble at Baltimore’s
Inner Harbor at a quarter ’till noon.

…But that was twenty five minutes ago…

Outside between the Bookstore and the
Chesapeake bay, I follow a beat beat of makeshift percussion: to a
makeshift lunch hour improv jam. four young men shirts off in street
band bangin away. It so damn hot and humid ,the couples in the paddle
boats seem to wiggle to improv percussion rythms.

A small crowd gathers… eating their meals … mouths dancin to the music.

White-collar conservative businessman hurrying down the street rushing
from this place to that: Stops for a moment for a moment… 6 became 9…
Nods in Appreciation : for his momentary freedom; and heads off to his next appointment.

Older male, black, thick glasses, Kentucky Fried Chicken work shirt on, rolls up im his beat up bicycle.
The music troupe ask him to join in the beat beat. First their
invitation… then his apprehension… soon the quartet becomes a jazz
quintet, as he melts in and pounds away the bayside Baltimore beats.

Lunch hour ends as the crowd slowly scatters, the musicians all shake hands and part…

And I head downtown to pick up our hundred dollar reserved tickets for the concert and art exibit we all planned for tonight!
*