Gentle jazz stepsWith a swingOff a concrete curbAnd into a whiskey binge.Gentle jazz, with hisSax in hand,Plays a tune For the tuneless and haunted.The ones that don’t needAnd don’t want him.Gentle jazz don’tKnow where he is.He dreams in allegroAnd moods,Of being a faceless name.Gentle jazz movesIn six-eight timeTen times.New Orleans funeral dirge.Gentle jazz singsIn blues and minor thirds.Gentle jazz don’t sting.He echoes storiesThrough midnight streetsOf the whipAnd the sunOn his back.Burning blackness deep.Gentle jazz speaksAnd seeksSolaceIn aTenorBuzzAnd aWomanOn himLike clothes.Gentle jazz knowsOf times as good As the bad ones were.When “fine” meantHe wasn’t deadAnd “great” meant“still alive.”Gentle jazz thrivesTo reassess the valueOf a smile held deepBy those who hearGentle jazz when they move,Cause gentle jazzDon’t weep withoutA laugh for every tear.Gentle jazz grooves.
"I wanna escort everyone through the romance of another dawn."-limbic system