the music fills the room
an old stero crackle just below
the strings and soft peel of drums.
a blue liquid jazz spills out and drowns the
crummy dirty room i'm in
turning it into a smokey night club
washed in deep lavenders and
plush
wine stained
reds.

a man from the bar buys me a gin fizz.
we sway with the horn
and a singer that croaks out
a rusty mournful wail.
mr. gin fizz smokes
and stares at me
hushing me
everytime i try and speak.

we sway
the singer wails
the drums whisper and scratch
the horn paints
hot liquid yellows
that assault those deep blues and reds.
the gin burns
and the music
fills the room.

squeeze my eyes shut
cementing the image
let the world that was
fall and live in the
dark smokey hole that is just
a nights sleep away.

i am beautiful
and i seep with that silent class
that other women do so easily.
draped in something deep
and silky
something that hugs
and drives men like him into fits.

mr.gin fizz orders another round
and lights another for us both.
the bittersweet blues slowly mix
into cool greens and grays of a
thick bass and a set of drums
thats not afraid to speak up
and introduce themselves.