sitting in a smoke-clouded room,
a jazz trio playing a wordless chart from memory,
a lonely sound,
meant for those like me to sip their scotch
and nod silently to those across the way -
that is the extent of our communication.
we all know why we're here,
why this place at this hour,
escaping for a moment the solitude
that is our constant companion,
just to know there are others like us
who know the words to the song the trio plays,
but we can't sing.