by Christy Garcia

Created on: November 01, 2009

And the band played on

While the bartender browsed the classifieds.

And the crowd kept time

Like congregation at mass.

Nostalgia filled the sticky booths

And lined the neon bar of El Chapultepec

the place that time forget.

the old timing jazz cats tried to recapture their youth

Sitting beside pressed and polished urban professionals

Pretending to be hip.

Time marched on all around the little dive

but El Chapultepec is the place that time forgot.

And the smoke, reality into a wistful recollection.

While the music like a hypnotist says " look into my eyes..."

Everybody waits for

Davis...Coltrane...

Parker.....Mingus....

Munk

To arrive. El Chapultepec is the place that time forgot

But jazz never did.

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