After the 24th revolution of the longhand
on the clock, the radio plays bossa nova jazz
all night and me, I sit awake in an empty
studio replaying the day in my head as I

row alone across the lake of my notebook
as some now-deceased artist sings about
a 17-year old girl living on Montenegro St.
as beads of moonlight drip from the blade

of the paddle back into the lake as my arms
push and pull and push and pause mid-row
to catch the rhythm and blues of solitude.

Lost in the labyrinth of words
Cigarette carelessly perched
In between her fingers
Smoke rising and swaying
To the jazz
That made the room heavy
With deep contemplation
No one spoke
No one dared to break the silence
To disrupt the voyage
Into our own minds

The conversational instrumentals
reply to each other harmoniously
the drum pounds,the rumbles pumps
as the skyline shine on mountains

The cas cas attach the drifty clouds
the C major smiles inside the beats
melodies of the G clef arrest the rest
a spell of keyboard appraised in praise

The trumpet screams as a saint
on the shadows of the lighted hall
the wall on the edge of the mall
a fusion of hope the unsung treaties

In the west the sound of the ancestors
appease my piece, to seek a forgone peace
inside the overrated and haunted world
of indifference and utter misfortune

You remind me of Jazz.

The way you sway in and out of my mind.
So gently.
So boldly.
The way you pull me along with the pining in your voice.
Lulling me in to memories of our false Joy.

Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.

Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,

cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.

So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—

Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!

You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!
Go!

But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--

in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!

Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--

T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!

And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,

in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!

You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!

--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.

So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!

Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.

I once saw a man in a Jazz club,
Fire-up one wild number,
and when he was done,
…he looked at me and said, "Son,"

"Can you tell the flag that we're under?"

I ordered two whiskeys and said, "Mississippi's,"
Then his band stole the rest of his thunder!

Sounds like drops of rain
Following a perfect pattern
Are crawling up your broken body
As the scents of spring
Spread the joy
The trumpet slowly breaks your walls
The piano makes you find your peace
The clarinet starts to flirt
Your soul melts down
By the double bass
As you fall in love
With all that jazz

Their lips carried words
like songs through some corner café,
with jazz lingering among the aroma of fresh coffee;
beckoning me into their eyes,
as though the street was far too cold
for me to stay outside much longer.