not quite dark enough for me, I can still
see the smoke, still smell the glass,
still hear the whiskey. from here on, the
choice is not mine....

transient hints
hiding under hair
eyes, shaded blues
they prop me up
bar stool high
axe in hand
back turned
amps jazzed down
crowds stuck together
and I hear Tom say
1..2..3..

intro playing to the room
sexaphone cooing
temperatures rise as
cool notes drop moods

behind this scene
back beats clean time
steering the theme
low toned leader
straight rim shot
steady symbols of the night

pass the line
turn left to me to
string the theme out
plectrum lost in space
solo staving the stage

surrendering the moment
melodies turned to coda
and I hear Tom say

©rad102408