A Little Jazz, A Little Soul—1965 by:
Jacquelyn “Jacsun” Shah SOUL is like hip emotion, he wrote, for emphasis making the S-O-U-L bigger than the other letters trying to teach me, his white girlfriend something. I drew in vivid colors an abstract rendering of the same. Sugar, he said, you’re somethin’! I laughed, loving his eyes, the lights they threw to me. And you! I teased. But then I learned another thing––fear the run-for-your-life type, the kind that lived in bone-marrow, fear that dissolved the light in his eyes when he drove into neighborhoods like mine, fear when I got into his car, sat next to him as he asked me to crouch down in the seat. In his house we relaxed, though one sister frowned and his mother did her best to smile. He was a student, working during summer break, playing piano at a bar called Herbie’s. College drop-out, I worked in an office. Traveling the keys, his fingers explored a wilderness–– a little jazz, a little soul made those barflies sit up, pay attention as black keys, white keys, tamed yet rapturous sang in chorus––My Delight, Angel Eyes, Satin Doll–– resounding from the shiny black piano.
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