Last Night at Thomas Boulevard

Last Night at Thomas Boulevard

(Or Maybe Bill Evans Gets It)

Richard Christman

The room is an empty box
Such a different place
All my things are moved out and I lay on the waxy wood floor on a
rolled out black yoga mat
a breeze rolls through the windows making
the thin curtains flutter as I think about my last night here.
The pale green painted room is blue
with oblong rectangles of a lighter, almost lightly iridescent blue on the walls and ceilings from the color of night and the windows.
I listen to music and doze in and out of sleep with my phone on the wood by my head
Bill Evans, Blue in Green.
He describes the situation perfectly

I roll and open an old Bible I found when moving the bed out
and I think about work and rest
I mentally flip through the deck of memories
schools—fights—joys—meals
from this place and I feel it
I close my eyes as Bill’s captured hands dance chords
up the keys to a height and the breeze lifts the cloth in time
as if to reveal spirit

Here it is, I think
Sabbath

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Richard Christman
Poet & Teacher

Richard is the Chairman of Forefront Festival

Photography by Elijah Brune