Close enough

Concentrating so hard on keeping my shorts from touching the grody floor of the bathroom stall, it took me a minute to look up and focus on the back of the door. It wasn’t much of a door but, really, what else was there to do? Close my eyes and think of England? It wasn’t that  grody…

At eye level, scrawled into the cheap painted wood was the word, “JAZZ.” I felt a momentary thrill of surprise. What a sly bit of graffiti to find here at a campground in the middle the Vermont woods, about as far from jazzland as you could get. And yet, in its very discord, the single word spoke of art and freedom, the unbound spirit that resides within all of us, no matter where we find ourselves. A credo, a call to action, an emblem of blood and inspiration, the improvisation of the moment!

Then I looked closer and saw it said, “JIZZ.