(For Gary Bartz)

Outside the smoky jazz club, silence and mist.

It’s 2 AM. The marquee across the street spells out

the names of films that await the Sunday matinee.

‘Where’s your horn?’ I ask. ‘Right here.”

And you turn your back where the case rests, holding

the Siren, the seductress.

Tonight you played ‘Soul Eyes’ and when you walked to the bar,

I told you how beautiful it was.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ you replied.

Player; smooth.

You know it’s spring.

You have ocean eyes and I want to touch

you lavender grey sweater.

What’s your story?

What will you make of this night, this fog,

this nothing of the end of March

that we’re awash with?

Copyright ©️ Karen Bennett 1988; 2022

All Rights Reserved

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Karen M Bennett

Karen M Bennett

I am a freelance writer from Philly. I lived in NYC for 26 yrs; was contributing Ed. at Musician; wrote about jazz. Taught at New School U; NYU. Poet, essayist.