Every Friday I sit on my balcony. At 8:00 PM the show starts. The dark slim dame makes her way through the stage with shadow-like steps. Her figure starts a Tchaikovsky composition while I patiently sit silent on my chair. A sudden play of the violin enters the stage, its sober sound accompanied by a high-pitched clarinet.
Fingers on a harp are heard subsequently, transforming the night into a frozen wonderland. The moves she makes are psychedelic, leaving shadowy smoke trails to follow her body as she slides across the stage. Sly smile present. Her veiled feet tap lightly on the floor with the grace of black swan in a lake. Nothing stops her.
Finishing her first act, she moves away from the stage and changes the track. Deafening bongs of a cathedral bell overwhelms the small venue. A rifting Fender and the banging of drums quickly give the rise of the next performance. The dark silhouette returns, her feet tapping harder while she flings her arms and drops them for a windmill strum. Never the conformist, the star moves to the upper stage. She lets out a lurid scream, promising black sensations to the crowd as she rifts away hell’s bells for the night.
The mood changes, mellow tones take us to the past. Soft vibrations of a saxophone fill the smooth air. A double bass follows suit, signaling the rest of the band to start the show. My darling is waiting. She grabs the ribbon microphone, her black sequin dress glistening across the ball room. Ruby on her lips, she puckers them and blows a kiss to the audience. It’s April in Paris tonight, my lover knows it. “Duh-be-duh-be-dee zoot zoot zu.” her jeweled petals sing while she flings her index finger back and forth. All eyes are on my jazz girl, she is Fitzgerald come again on a snowy canvas.
The song comes to an end and she flawlessly bows for a standing ovation. From my booth, I mimic clapping hands. The wary neighbor giving me the stink eye. What would she know about fine art? The silhouette makes her way out of the room, her each step breaking my heart. I say my goodbyes, pickup my binoculars from the metal railing and wait patiently for her next show.
An odd poem/short story I wrote. Trying out new things, hope it's enjoyable.