flamenco sketches

my fingers play over
scarred bartop
like miles
pressing down on the keys
his horn
moaning and throbbing
painfully
stabbing phrases
through the air
like so many voices
in a gospel choir

bill evans
tinkles the ivory
restrained
and masterful
filling the space
like raindrops
on a warm spring night
while the great man
takes a blow

miles starts in again
sweet sweet horn
taking my breath away
i play with the sweat
on the rocks glass
take a sip
of smoky scotch
inhale a lungful
of kingstown’s finest

i run my fingers
across your bare shoulder
its texture as smooth
as the bartop is rough
hoping i can play you
like miles played that horn
cool and effortless
relentless
through the night

It’s 1959
we aren’t born yet
but miles knew
we’d be listening
played this song for us

best we make the most of it
he’d like that
sketch the dance flamenco
all through the night

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