Jazz

Staccato-ed and fleeting in full,

the lulling beat somehow lazy

hazily sauntering away

honeyed notes broken on the pavement like sparkling glass

glittering and useless,

passing throaty smoke like cigarettes

betting that the wet pulse

of sound pounding roundly loudly

down will slicken, thicken

smooth;

slathering music on the shimmering

cadence of sweat and breath

crowding the room—

winking and buzzing;

catching light.