“Ms. Cynthia Jazz”
Obese peacock clouds
Waltzing free from oil paintings
Summer flamboyance bristles
Under skies of no particular color
Sounds make sway sunlight seep
Juicy Cynthia Jazz, wrinkle cheeked,
All winter subterfuge
Can’t derail the eccentric illusions
Swagger chromed cocaine
And rushed breathing into an ice glass
Jack on the rocks, tipped back
Drip, drip lingering fingers
No season eroded, no use for it
Twirl sound slips down ear canals
Down and out of this rusty drain
Someone termed a tavern
“Serenity on Tap”
Arturo Fuente atmosphere wafts,
Surrounds whiskey coated heart aches
And while the windows filter in black light moonlight,
Patrons suffocate on the sincerity blues
Controlled burns shoo away evening cold
As the dour band keeps watch for it on stage
Grated windows carve moonlight in the pattern,
Synergy to the tune of sacred satiny brass
Last call thoughtfully lingers like the band’s black magic echo
Thankfully the concrete always knows the way home during October
The windows let in the black light moonlight still, always
Even with the cathedral doors chained up, and everything snuffed out
