Monday, October 26, 2020

Jazz

You don’t listen to jazz because

It is neither pedestrian nor broccoli.

“Who’s Mahatma Gandhi?” asks a man

Who had somehow gone through twenty

Years without learning a thing or

Two in history but swears that

A wild boar’s penis does wonders

To an underachieving male such as

He. Incredibly smart about rap culture,

It should not be too much

Of me to ask, I think,

For a gentler spin, something parochial,

And not based upon a horoscope

Page. We are stir-fried characters

With illustrative details enough to choke

On our patron saint’s banquet. If

You are ever going to love

Me, I might even see your good

Side and finally see in you

Something they say there is not.

Do you think, just possibly, we

Could use a few more moments

Of this light? I see you

Nod indulgently. Tomorrow, it might be

That you’ll find yourself listening to

Jazz with me and that’ll be

A different story.

 

 

 

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