The jazz rises creamy smooth,
a tasteful air into a city laughing
under a black moon where shadow life’s
find the jive and voices crackle
with scratchy rhythm and snappy fingers,
jamming words, pulling and stepping
knocking the plaster free where windows
and doors open spreading the flames,
feeding a fire from the Apple to the Easy
and all stops in-between, the tan and white
beyond 64, finding bonds, linked and roaring
with blazing from club to club touching
everyone with ears to hear that the music
transcends far to the other side.
Roger Singer 