Sunday at the Village Vanguard

The needle drops,
and it’s June 25, 1961.
The Bill Evans Trio 
is still very much alive.

I’m sitting there, 
in that tiny, smoke-filled 
basement room 
on 7th avenue,

where the trio
plays its last show —
though it’s still 
impossible for
them to know.

They’re so deep 
in the pocket, 
you can disappear 
in there with them 
and the rest of 
the ghosts of 
Greenwich Village. 

Scott LaFaro’s
bassline skips 
and weaves in 
and around 
Evans’ sparse
chords, their 
voices over-
lapping.

Evans’ touch 
on the keys, 
so light, 
it's like his 
fingers are 
afraid of 
making too
much sound.

Paul Motian’s 
brushwork dies 
down, though
it’s never entirely 
quiet, with the 
background hum
of the audience,
the clinking
of nightclub 
glasses.

12 days from now, 
LaFaro will be gone 
forever, at just 
25, but in this 
moment, this
Sunday, in this
club, no one 
has any idea 
what will 
happen next,

and anything’s
possible.

JOSH P. COHEN

Josh P. Cohen is a librarian living in Lancaster, PA. In addition to poetry, he writes plays and songs. In 2020, he had a poem nominated for a Pushcart Prize and will have work appearing in the forthcoming Keystone: Contemporary Poets on Pennsylvania.