.
Dear Chet
The other night you Almost Blue
mourn me and do not forgive you for having broken your pedestal private.
The other night I dreamed dream chips smoke and cool jazz,
and pink sunsets on the beach in Malibu. Surcábamos
avenues in a pink Cadillac and beautiful women caressed my hair. In Venice Beach
your languid trumpet left me alone, as so often,
and returned to the Bay of Dreams
to listen in Fillmore again.
woke up and I hated you, Chet Baker
but I laughed with you, man
and float along the ground ...
but
sorry you gave me,
seductive angel face,
heart of the devil. Poor
Chet crossed
chaos of pure genius,
summit of the silence that precedes the sound.
The humble trumpet was his last companion, his only companion.
eloy sanchez
Let's Get Lost (Bruce Weber, 1988) in Leola
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