jazz,
jazz,
swing,
dancing melt city on the hot side walk,
where,
little boys in jeans play,
baseball,
newyorkcity,
newyorkwomen,
newyorkgraveyards,
new­yorkbackalleys,
newyorktelephonecall,
call her at 2 AM,
drunk on a wine only the bums know about,
i bought a pack of,
cigarettes this morning,
i'm all out,
the side walk tilts,
untying my shoe laces,
and knotting my eye lashes,
she picks up after the 4th ring,
she's dressed to go out,
she's dressed to be undressed and to be kissed,
she's dressed for me,
jazz or something like a Medieval God,
shakes and vibrates and quakes and ******* down the street,
it sounds like rich whiskey in cheap glasses,
and sweating trumpet players and women dancing with their legs and skirts up,
i tell her to meet me on 6th avenue,
where everything comes to make sense,
with the whiskey,
the jazz,
the women in short dresses,
and the club is loud,
leaking out only certain noises,
specific laughs and,
the important notes,
played on the piano,
and squeezed from the,
saxophone,
like a poppy flowers ***** milk,
the payphone rings,
but i'm gone.