You are ivory magic without a single tusk taken Boxes of fun without a single gift opened More gold than any pocket, more silver than any second place token You are the pounding crescendo in my head unbroken
For old times sake Old minds sake Rewind and scratch the sidewalk With a wingtip gliding by fake With old kitten lips pressed to the reed And the quiet patter of kickdrum feet Would you play it one more time for me? With the chattering of Ivory teeth nearby Would you let the Cool Jazz river run deep?
Walking down the same road with blasting exceptional high-note trumpets in my ears. The cold’s making my ******* hard and I enjoy the sudden thought of you. I imagine you getting out of the shower With steaming mirrors and drops of water on your arms. How much **** could fit inside your garage I wonder. . . . I knock on the door. How is your heart tonight?
Warm ***** and a warm glass of tea. “It feels like a hug from the inside” A sentence that could always make you laugh.
I look around while you are staring at my thighs. Those few square meters are my lake: Getting rid of my thirst in there, like a small animal, while looking at the effortless romance of the surroundings, the simplicity of tiny things and the scattered parts of you hanging on the walls vulnerable and careless for what’s about to come. (your paintings or me? - who knows)
And then we talk and talk And then talk some more About things that make us laugh or even uncomfortable And I always find amusing whatever you will say: effortless as the surroundings and the charm of your little cat. . . . . (43 seconds of silence)
I keep changing positions on that 2 persons blue couch Knowing that you notice my inability to stay still. I don’t know how to behave myself. I kind of give up after 1 hour and 37 minutes, switching between a cat and a tiger Completely unaware of how I should control myself around your sizzling energy. And then I shamelessly put my lips on your forehead And at that moment you know that I want to make love to your messy brain giving up on the idea that there is any chance for it to stop.
And ****, we kiss, with our two mouths making glorious music Beating on the pulse of my right wrist. And I want to **** the confusion out of you, But I **** everything else of you instead.
And there I am, laying half *****, feeling desired and trapped in those ******* vibrations of my legs: all because of your fingertips that want my juices like thirsty snakes coming out of your arms.
And we are at that space and moment where I can’t do nothing But smile full of **** hoping that this could last.
And the door opens and we say “ I will see you on Thursday” And I am inelegantly faking my confidence for the inevitable.
The druggy satisfaction of a night at your garage Tasting like the first cigarette of a very, good, day.
Listening to jazz, in a blue haze of smoke, each note like a lounge lizard scribbling along the wall looking for shade, and you, so sultry in that dress, winding your way down the boulevard like a princess without a crown, can't you see this music is a trombone filled with glitter, and music men only love you when they're high?
It's been too long Since I've felt at home In that concrete kingdom Where my soul is from. I can still remember The smells of the city, The hotdog vendors yelling For pedestrians to buy their wares. I miss it like I would a child Walking down those streets As the sun beats down on me Giving me peace for a little while. The songs of the streets Resonate through my ears still While this cool night air Makes the jazz music take flight. I'm not cut out for this retiree's haven. I need to go home Where I'm at home Always, New York.