New York. Five a.m.
The sidewalks empty.
Only the steam
pouring from the manhole covers seems alive,
as I amble from shop window to shop window,
sometimes stopping to stare, sometimes not.
Last week’s snow is brittle now
and unrecognizable as the soft, white hair
that bearded the face of the city.
I head farther down Fifth Avenue
toward the thirties,
my mind empty
like the Buddhists tell you is possible
if only you don’t try.
If only I could
turn myself into a bird
like the shaman I was meant to be,
but I can’t,
I’m earthbound
and solitude is my companion,
the only one you can count on.
Don’t, don’t try to tell me otherwise.
I’ve had it all and lost it
and I never want it back,
only give me this morning to keep,
the city asleep
and there on the corner of Thirty-fourth and Fifth,
the man with the saxophone,
his fingerless gloves caked with grime,
his face also,
the layers of clothes welded to his skin.
I set down my case,
he steps backward
to let me know I’m welcome,
and we stand a few minutes
in the silence so complete
I think I must be somewhere else, not here,
not in this city, this heartland of pure noise.
Then he puts the sax to his lips again
and I raise mine.
I suck the air up from my diaphragm
and bend over into the cold, golden reed,
waiting for the notes to come,
and when they do,
for that one moment,
I’m the unencumbered bird of my imagination,
rising only to fall back
toward concrete,
each note a black flower,
opening, mercifully opening
into the unforgiving new day.
Cities are brimming with activity and teeming with the opportunity to grow. Streets are packed with people, shops, work buildings and restaurants. Yet, the life that people strive for seems to be less than expected as people fight for status symbols, money, jobs, and homes. The things that people do for those status symbols will not always add up to improve a person’s life, and may destroy the passion or emotion that mortalizes the human race. In Ai’s “The Man with the Saxophone”, Ai employs imaginative metaphor and cyclic enjambment to juxtapose the complex nature of life’s cycles with the ephemeral moments of color that provide purpose for the speaker while exposing the dullness of the surrounding years of life.
The utilization of imaginative metaphors creates a sense of color and joy for the speaker as the saxophone allows them to feel as “the unencumbered bird of [their] imagination” (Ai, 46). Though much of the poem seems like an endless cycle of dull, meaningless life, the music of the saxophone is providing an unforgettable moment shared with the man on the street. The man, assumed to be homeless or of the lowest working class, provides a stark contrast between the paleness and lack of emotion in society, especially during industrialization expansions that led to increased working and less individuality in a person’s life. The connection between the speaker and the man appeals to the attraction of passion in one’s life. The man, having succumbed to a lack of stable income, continued to play his saxophone, symbolizing his defiance of society’s expectations by pursuing his passions. Inspired by the man, the speaker uses their saxophone to break the otherwise dull patterns of life with “each note a black flower” that opens into the “unforgiving new day” (Ai, 49,51). The flower that is compared to the music is symbolism of the beauty that music and passion brings to individuality, yet the color exemplifies that the true nature of humans to rely on the patterns for stabilization and advancements regardless of passions. Both the bird and the flower represent the freedom and naturality that music and art brings to life, yet the moment is temporary and the cycle of bleak life will continue on.
Through the employment of cyclic enjambment, the speaker enlightens the reader on the lack of ambition or excitement in one’s life. The speaker suggests that the previous week’s snow is “brittle now and unrecognizable”, yet the lack of punctuation exemplifies that the weeks blur into each other and the time never ceases (Ai, 7,8). While the physical milieu continues to morph the activities, expectations do not metamorphosize, causing a feeling of entrapment. The perceived lack of control can make a person feel unfulfilled which is delineated as the speaker suggests that “solitude” is the “companion” (Ai,20). Furthermore, the feeling of being stuck in a person’s own life is illuminated further through later use of enjambment when the speaker plays the saxophone and is a bird “rising only to fall back toward concrete” (Ai, 47,48). The enjambment illustrates that while the speaker feels the fleeting joy from art, the moment will not last as everything circles back to the original cycle. The daily motions of the speaker’s life seem unending, almost like nature's cycle of life, also exemplified with the previous metaphors with nature as the movement through society and life’s cycles are impossible to escape, even through the moments of passion where hope is feasible.
The speaker’s utilization of personification communicates how society’s impact on a person’s choices lead to colorless life and strip away the feeling they had once strived for. The speaker suggests that the city has a “bearded” face, meaning that the city is old yet manages to be a central part of its inhabitants (Ai, 9). The city, personified through each person, expands its grasp on each person with its societal expectations and capitalistic systems that prevent individual expression. By personifying the steam as “alive”, it again illuminates the impression and grip that the city has on the speaker, and the steam, escaping from the manhole, exemplifies the desire to escape from the city and free oneself from the dampening of artistic and individualistic freedom.
Through cyclic enjambment, ambitious personification and naturalistic metaphors, the speaker conveys the desire to be freed from the cities’ boring and dull life. The bustling streets seem to be a facade and the moments of self-expression allow for a beautiful yet ephemeral joy to be felt all while reminding each person that the endless cycle of days bleed into each other, regardless of the few moments that make life worth living. Life, full of dullness relies on the moments of joy and human emotion to remain individual and through that , remain purposeful and emotional for contentness.