Blue shirt guitar man sing me out,
make my shoes tap with the drummer
beating the skins to crying
and sizzling the cymbals into stormy lightening.
Clouded lights lift from humid whispers and smoke.
Hear the bass man call out to angels in heavy clouds
stirring the heavens, making rain soak their wings,
forcing them to earth where the jazz cuts the edge
sending out a call for smooth with lemon warm.
Hurry….
bring new drinks with ice to cool the fire from
jive and jump.
Roger Singer 