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Category: Tucson

Back in Tucson

Published 16 November 2023 by Jason Crane

I’m back in Tucson and today I went to my favorite restaurant.

In October 1994, I moved to Tucson to work at my family’s restaurant. Shortly after I got here, I got hired to play in the band of Ismael Barajas. We played latin dance music of various kinds. In 1995 we got hired to play in the courtyard between El Charro and the newly constructed ¡Toma! bar. The courtyard would be packed with dancers.

The exchange of energy between the band and these dancers, who were just a few feet away, was intense. One of the greatest musical moments of my life happened in this courtyard, during a solo I was taking, when the big man who was the nephew of the band leader grabbed the brim of his hat while dancing and spun himself around, facing front again just as the band hit the next downbeat. It felt like we were levitating off the ground. The only problem with this gig was that in between sets they would feed us whatever we wanted, which meant that every week I would order a carne seca chimichanga elegante style , eat the whole thing, and then be so full that it was hard to play for the second set. I love this place and everything it represents.

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POEM: Airwaves

Published 8 September 2023 by Jason Crane

Airwaves

When the Ford Festiva’s tape deck broke
it was all radio, all the time.
The Afghan Whigs & Goo Goo Dolls
& Blues Traveler & Tracy Chapman
& Alannis Morissette & Jewel
& Dishwalla & Deep Blue Something
& Coolio & Hootie & The Blowfish
& Oasis & No Doubt & The Bodeans
& Natalie Merchant & Melissa Etheridge.
Driving the meanish streets of Tucson
with a styrofoam container of burritos
on the passenger seat, coming home
from a gig at 2 a.m. to an empty apartment,
and later to a less empty one.

/ / /

8 September 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 49 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day for the 50 days leading up to my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: “Back On The Chain Gang” / “Fotos y Recuerdos”

Published 6 September 2023 by Jason Crane

“Back On The Chain Gang” / “Fotos y Recuerdos”

I know this song because of Selena,
which is odd because I seem more
like a Pretenders guy at first glance.

You were rehabbing houses in Tucson,
I was playing nights in a latin dance band.
We were listening to a lot of music in Spanish.

When she died it was like a day of mourning
settled on the city. The guys you worked with
sang along to her songs on the radio and cried.

We moved to Japan and watched
Jennifer Lopez (a new name to both of us)
play Selena in the movie.

We rode the trains to work, probably
the only people on the Yamanote Line
swaying gently to “Como la Flor.”

All these years later I still think of
late-night burrito runs to Los Betos
when I hear her music, or else

watching Domino sleeping in a patch of sun
on the floor of our apartment in Yokohama.
Photos and memories.

/ / /

6 September 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 47 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day for the 50 days leading up to my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: In The Driveway In The Tucson Foothills There Were

Published 3 August 2023 by Jason Crane

In The Driveway In The Tucson Foothills There Were

a series of stones arranged in a semicircle

eight or so chairs, in two groups,
with white ribbon to create an aisle

eight or so people, most of whom were related
to one or the other of the celebrants,
plus Dave and Priscilla

some low cacti, which would come into play
after the ceremony when the bride
stepped out of the stone semicircle
and straight into the sharp spines

a CD boombox, probably the groom’s,
playing a Nat King Cole Trio CD,
definitely the groom’s

a justice of the peace in a dark suit,
with glasses and a mustache, who
turned out to take only cash,
causing the best man to ask the groom’s
grandfather if he had any on him,
which, thankfully, he did

two young people who barely knew
what they were doing, who could not see
that it wouldn’t last, who stood in the
semicircle of stones and hoped
that would be enough

/ / /

3 August 2023
Charlottesville VA

This is poem 13 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.

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POEM: Digging Bill Evans

Published 21 November 2022 by Jason Crane

Digging Bill Evans

I was 21, driving a used car,
no money in the bank, a job
as a waiter in my uncle’s restaurant
awaiting me in the desert.
I moved into a studio apartment:
a bed, a small sofa, a scuffed old
round table from the restaurant.
I had my stereo from back east;
the library across the street
had CDs. I’d sign them out
then sit on the floor, head
between the speakers, trying to
find my way into the music.
Now I have a 20-year-old son.
I can’t afford a studio apartment.
I don’t have a job waiting for me.
I’m still trying to find my way
into whatever story the music is telling.

/ / /

21 November 2022
State College PA

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POEM: Revenge!

Published 21 January 2021 by Jason Crane

Revenge!

Mingus! Dolphy!
Elderly people doing yoga!
Park pavilions full of
downward dogs & the upper class.
The Buick owners realigning their chakras
before heading off to brunch.
Everyone has a dog or else no one does.
There’s ozone in the air but the sun is out.
Where’s the promised thunder?
The desert is a dirty liar.
The bass clarinet will have to do.

///

21 January 2021
Oro Valley, AZ

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POEM: Today was the last time

Published 19 January 2021 by Jason Crane

Today was the last time

I’ve learned that my shell is too fragile
to hold up under the weight
of what might have been.
Like the man said, you can’t go home again.
Had I known I’d be running so hard
I would have stayed in better shape.
And probably not worn Crocs.
I’ll leave this key on the counter.
It no longer unlocks anything.

///

19 January 2021
Tucson, AZ

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haiku: 16 January 2021

Published 16 January 2021 by Jason Crane

sunshine, wild horses
“you’ll for sure poop in your van”
: Ironwood Forest

/ / /

16 January 2021
Ironwood Forest National Monument
Arizona

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haiku: 15 January 2021

Published 15 January 2021 by Jason Crane

January sun
wild birds call in the distance
on a rock in space

/ / /

15 January 2021
Ironwood Forest National Monument
Arizona

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POEM: Oasis

Published 25 October 2020 by Jason Crane

Oasis

It’s such a cliché even Looney Tunes covered it:
the desperate man in the desert, crawling toward water.
In the cartoon he usually dives into the pond
to find only sand where he sought salvation.
Me, I’ll be driving a minivan to the water’s edge,
and I’m fairly certain it’s actually there. At least
as certain as we can be of anything in these times.
At some point you have to ask yourself why you move.
What possible promise could await over the horizon?
Does forty degrees of longitude matter that much?
I’ll be the judge of that, says the little voice in my head.
I don’t trust that voice any further than I could throw it,
which is no distance at all if past is any kind of prologue.
“Go east, middle-aged man” doesn’t have the same ring to it
as the other, more famous phrase, but what the hell.
YOLO and whatnot. The tank is full, the nose is pointed
toward the rising sun. I have nothing to lose but my chains.
And probably some engine parts I can’t identify.
Save me a spot on the dunes.

/ / /

Jason Crane
25 October 2020
Tucson, AZ

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SONG: “At The Circle K”

Published 12 June 2020 by Jason Crane

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An ode to life in a red state.

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POEM: 40 days & 40 nights

Published 11 May 2020 by Jason Crane

40 days & 40 nights

‘e’s nuts I tells ya
carries two unloaded 6-
shooters everywhere ‘e goes
wears spurs (like an old western
gunslinger) on his New Balance 410s
why just the other day I saw ‘im
down to the Circle K
juggling 3 Fruit Punch Gatorades
(mask & gloves on the whole time)
until the manager come out
from the little room in the back
said ‘e had to get going or
the cops’d be called
‘e left but not before putting
2 of the Gatorades back neatly
in the cooler
we have to have rules, ‘e said
& buying the other one
‘e unscrewed the cap, stepped
through the door into the desert sun
spilled a little in the parking lot & said
pouring one out for my home

/ / /

Jason Crane
10 May 2020
Tucson, AZ

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