Rich Youmans

Sunday at the BeBop Inn

He sat hunched in a corner of the dining room, his guitar as big as his torso, the sleeves of his sport jacket riding up as his left hand spidered the frets and his right arm hugged that black lacquered body like an old love. I remember some of the songs he played — “Summertime,” “Misty,” “Autumn Leaves,” standards from his days as a sideman with Mingus and Norvo. And I can’t forget that sound, his records come to life: notes warm and shimmering, smooth as sunlit honey.

But what I remember most is how each note appeared on his lips a second before I heard it. How he shut his eyes to the elegant tablecloths, the waiters orbiting with silver-plated trays. How his face took on a distant calm as those notes appeared, one after the other, in a pitch tuned to only his ear. That was the melody I wanted to hear.

jazz solo
	champagne bubbles rising
		   from nowhere

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About the Author

Rich Youmans lives on Cape Cod with his wife, Alice. He published his first haibun in 1994 and, decades later, is still at it. His books include All the Windows Lit (Snapshot Press, 2017) and Head-On (Red Bird Chapbooks, 2018). He is also the co-author, with Roberta Beary and Lew Watts, of Haibun: A Writer’s Guide (Ad Hoc Fiction, 2023).

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