The rain calls softly from beyond the window
Fingers tapping on glass, persistent
Undaunted at the prospect of rejection

Saxophones serenade and trumpets sound
A color wheel exploding in my mind's eye
The rain was jazz for a moment

White lights create an art in their geometry
With shapes that don't exist
Except in the mind of the beholder

Smoke billows from between my lips
And this world of mine coagulates
It feels so right it almost stings.