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Curling tendrils of tobacco haze engulf the tiny space, hang like ringlets over shots of whiskey and mugs of warm beer. A solitary dancer moves, bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy with kohl, captures old men in mid drink as her hips sway to Nina Simone. Her bronze skin glistens with the hot stares of the audience; she soaks it in, twirls on bare feet in perfect time as the high priestess of soul bewitches us with heavy grooves. I close my eyes, tap fingers against glass, whisper Nina’s words into the smoke and breathe them back in again. This is jazz, I think out loud, this is pure unadulterated heat.
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Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:21 PM UTC
San Francisco, 1992
Curling tendrils of tobacco haze engulf the tiny space, hang like ringlets over shots of whiskey and mugs of warm beer. A solitary dancer moves, bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy with kohl, captures old men in mid drink as her hips sway to Nina Simone. Her bronze skin glistens with the hot stares of the audience; she soaks it in, twirls on bare feet in perfect time as the high priestess of soul bewitches us with heavy grooves. I close my eyes, tap fingers against glass, whisper Nina’s words into the smoke and breathe them back in again. This is jazz, I think out loud, this is pure unadulterated heat.
cjchaffin
Written by
48/Cisgender Male/Vancouver, WA
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:21 PM UTC
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