Riding With Royalty Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Frank was driving back from Barksdale
On a cool fall night with the top down
And the radio playing jazz classics
From the big band era and fantasizing
About jamming with one of the greats
When he drove onto a rickety bridge
Over a minor tributary of the Mississippi River
The radio suddenly started to crackle
And the signal began to waver
As if the car was driving out of the station's range
When suddenly a sad voice, singing a cappella,
Came through clear as a bell: Billie Holiday.

But wait, a gravelly bass voice seemed to float in from nowhere
Threading in a counterpoint to the melody Billy was creating
Seemingly from the electricity prickling the night air with heat lightening.

Now this is a track I have never heard before, thought Frank,
And waited for the song to end and the DJ to explain
Where he had excavated this rare relic from,
When the radio simply went completely dead!

As he fumbled with the dial to try to find the station again,
He swerved into the oncoming traffic and the blare of a car horn
Brought him back to his senses and kept his hands on the wheel,
His eyes on the road and his mind on the route home
Until, a few miles further on, he saw a beautiful black woman
Standing regally erect on the edge of the road.

For a moment he recalled the scene from 'It Happened One Night'
But this woman simply stood with a dignified silence
As if indifferent to her plight in the deepening chill of an autumn night.

Ever the gentleman, Frank pulled over to the side of the road
And asked her if she needed a ride.
She made no reply but simply slipped into the back seat
And sat stoically as if she had no interest in where they were going
Or if they ever got there.

Not knowing what else to do, Frank drove on in silence
Until once again the radio came back to life
Playing scratchy, gritty bathtub gin jazz.
And to Frank's surprise, the passenger in the back seat
Began to hum along in a haunting tone that seemed so familiar...

Just as he was tempted to turn around and get a better look at his hitchhiker,
His headlights caught the form of a man
Standing in the middle of the road.
Frank slammed on the breaks
But was sure he was too late
And sent up a Hail Mary in pure desperation.

And just as suddenly the man was standing next to his window.
In that unique voice that would make even a ghoul seem cool,
Louis Armstrong asked Frank for a lift.
Who could resist the chance to ride with royalty?

In an anachronistic re-enactment of Me and Bobby McGee
Frank drove them all the way to New Orleans.
And to this day nobody believes him when he tells them
That he has jammed with the king and queen of jazz.