15,543. ONLY AFTER A MINUTE

ONLY AFTER A MINUTE

The guy said par for the course was

failure. I asked him what he meant;

he looked at me funny and replied:

"It's only after a minute that seconds

accumulate so we can call them that;

the rest, kid, is all crap." I was 18,

and had just gotten myself to Tompkins

Square Park. In a very Huck Finn sort

of way I was already on my mental

raft, and done with this world. Seeking

my Jim, with Old Pap' already in the

woodshed seeking me out. River oh 

river, come take me away.

-

The salsa group was banging in the

park  -  I hated that sort of music, but

there it was, now all around me. The

little bandshell held some five or six. 

All I had with me right then were my 

bongo drums. I loved those suckers,

and could play to most anything  -  

staccato, breaks, shuffle, rims and

centers, and double-shuffle too. My

thumb-knuckle corners were heavily

calloused. I started to play. At a break

they motioned me over  -  to come up

and join them. Cool enough, and they

were slightly mic'ed too, so I sat near

a pickup and got amplified as well.

It all felt pretty good, as the seconds

ticked by into minutes and more.

-

My first day in New York was a pretty good

day. River, oh river, come take me away.