On Jazz

Sultry sax
Tanqueray, lime and ice
cigarette smoke in the sunset

Sitting on the back steps
blue cotton dress hiked up her thighs
sweating for a cool breeze.

The jazz gets in her head;
she wonders if he'll be by tonight.

Thin white feet, bare and dusty
(best ankles in two counties),
follow the sax

low and hot.
Makes her want to slip under a man
or swim in an ocean
of warm wet silk

to a cool shore.


Smokey Joe's Poetry Corner

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Copyright © 1990 C.Diane Thompson

Copyright © 1997 Timothy M. Radonich