The Meeting

miles davis and john coltrane
myself
in a giant empty loft

white with a million windows
the sun omnipresent outside
as if there actually was an outside

they approached me
instrument cases open
miles’ trumpet was wood
‘trane’s tenor was darker
but still wood

I took it from the case
and discovered that I played
amazing saxophone
almost as good as ‘trane

I improvised
fluttered notes into the air with ease
while my heroes looked on
approving smiles on their faces

I’m a versatile and inspiring musician
in my dreams, yet
as quickly as the tones rolled from the horn
I found myself flat on my face
the pillow wet
the sun white under my eyelids
the melody held in my mind for a moment
before slipping away