Waking up, smelling of love
Sore & stiff from our imaginations
A late night of enlightened feelings
Letting moans be our primal narration
Accompanied by jazzy tones & chilled wine
Perfect decorations for our eternal passions
By any means necessary to ensure
That our mutual desire never goes our of fashion
A dancing, twirling girl
Caught up in the bedglow
Free from the concerns
A proper lady to surely know
Chamber chorus versus Jazz
She couldn’t guess where I’d be
That’s what kept us apart
Improvisational styles she couldn’t see
Cocktails in the early afternoon
She liked her whiskey neat
A traditional, proper beauty
But couldn’t meet when it came to the sheets
Striking poses within silhouettes
Admittedly swooning from my words
A wry smile & another sip
We sit naked, listening to ‘Trane & Bird
Been listening to Chet baker all day
A friend said it’d make me a better person
I’m closing my eyes while the sounds take over
I’m imagining a lost era
Every man knowing how to wear a suit
Every lady in a tailored dress
Mad Men fiction – but with a tangible feel
A stiff drink to calm my modern nerves
& realize I yearn for well dressed people
With manners.
Flaming sauerkraut stud muffin
A condensed version of radial glory
Knowing full well where life begins
The translucent strands of our story
Calculating Parisian jazz statistics
Veiled through the rummy, filtered grime
Distance equals an unfettered stump
When satisfaction measured in Lycra & time
Logbooks; surmounting the tepid schedule
All aboard the mourning run of the downtown train
Sunrise catching your weary eyes
Early summer rain prepositions our inaugural hurricane
*I was bogged down and couldn’t write so I just started writing nonsense until I was inspired to create something. It is what it is.
“To try to become a saint.”
– John Coltrane (when asked what he was going to do next)
Captain Q 