The melody haunts
on the offbeat,
my heart-pulse.

Sad, but
maybe hopeful.

The fuzzy reeds,
breath through tenors,
piano and bass
both upright shake
sand-castles loose
at the turrets.

Doubtful brushes swirl on snares
precise in ambiguous beat,
more color than anything electric.

A young girl
neon-green bikini
samba prone on her lounger
under earbuds to her own muse
or maybe disposable pop.

Surf rolls,
hear that oh-so-soft brush on cymbal?

Grab it, hold on
till fade.

Chicheme, March 2013
Chagall 2018

  • Written March 21, 2013, poolside under headset,
    listening to Miles Davis Kind of Blue, vibing with its drummer, Jimmy Cobb.

P.S. I called myself Chicheme back then.   🙂

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