flamenco sketches

my fingers play over

the scarred bartop

like miles

pressing down on the keys

his horn moaning

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

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 make the most of it

he’d like that

 

sketch the dance flamenco

all through the night

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