Jackson says he was “something” back then. Claims he used to blow sax with Coltrane and says those were the better times in our history. Back then, he says he walked tall in the streets of Chicago. Men walked wide around him and women hung on his shoulders like worn out suspenders.
He only loved the one he called Millie but enjoyed the sagging comfort and usefulness of many others. So many women, so many suspenders. He now complains about things of little consequence. He wonders, did he just get old? Is it just that simple? Did he lose this audience? Or did he ever have one at all? He wonders if he dreamed it now. Yet, a saxophone still stands in the corner of the back bedroom.
24 x 30″Original on gallery wrap canvas. Contact me to buy this piece. Name your price (I’m moving out of the country and selling all my art.)