Sweet Dreams, and All That Jazz

Piano man in the corner,
Fingers waltz in Three Four,
Cigs lit dimly, cracklin’ in a tray.
Rhythm taps on the floor from shoes
And shoe laces. From tables spanked by hands.
From air bopped by peoples heads.
Chords strung out in rows,
Lines, dangling from rooftop
To jazz-top. Swingin’.

Bass layin’ a line in the side,
“can’t pass that”, she sings,
the broken chords thump-thumpin’
Beating my heart faster,
Slappin’ frets with thick wire,
The air of smoke bouncin’ from the low.
Cracklin’ lights matchin’ fingers
Sweepin’ ‘cross the board, breakin’,
Planting roots for the trees.

The trees sproutin’ into trumpets,
Matchin’ the sax with improv’,
Piercin’ my skin with it’s guided scales.
Back arched, moon man, pushin’ air
From his lungs, through the mouth, to the mouth,
Brewin’ blue batter with quick fingers.
Jazzin’ up the skylights,
Bringin’ it down, through the ground.
And it sings.

Sax man in front,
Spittin’ Blues from golden mouths,
Like Autumn leaves from dyin’ trees.
Trails of blue spittle dryin’ in our ears,
Soakin’ canals of indigo rivers.
That’s what I hear.
Lightin’ trails of leaves on fire,
Notes dancin’, embers burning footsteps
Into the ground of melodic motif.

Guitar’s dressed black,
Compin’ to snazz-jazz rhythms,
Quick chords matchin’ the pee-ah-no.
Pinstriped suit movin’ to the bass,
Sputterin’ the upper register,
Sparks of color emanate from struck strings.
Dancin’ figures below the stage,
Swingin’ from the swung notes,
Slidin’ from the legato voice.

Sticks hittin’ metal and plas-sticks,
Rhythm pullin’ all to it,
Air boppin’ to the Two Four and the One-two-three’s
Keepin’ the bee’s beats together,
Knees jumpin’ to the rhythmic patterns
And motifs of Spanish jazz beats.
Birdy patterns emerge from the times,
Swirlin’ round my head my arms,
Embracin’ me with sound.

Lady singin’ the tune.
“Sweet dreams”,
“Sweet dreams and all THAT jazz”.
Light breakin’ her figure on the floor,
Broken by her hair, by the fabric swayed by hips,
The stage stamped by high heeled free-time tappin’
“Oh baby, good night”
“Let moon beams shine,
your blankets doused in light”.

And I find myself singin’ along
To the blue jazz rhythm and beats,
From the nighttime streets and lights lyin’
Low to the ground, like the house we’re in.
Dim eyes dim lights hangin’ from cracked ceilings,
Down from light-bulbs on top of my head.
And I STILL find myself singin’,
To the beats. To the solos. To the improv’.
Spilling from their fingers into my welcoming mouth.


- Brian P.