I want to taste jazz on my lips as it swims through brass tubes and valves-
I want its echo to call my name on a still night in July from a bar down the road.
I want the beat of that drum to move my body in a way you never could.
I want the rhythm to slide its hands down my hips and make my toes curl with the night sky up
above glistening with uncountable stars.
I want the beat to pull at my hair and rip at my clothes-
I want its fingers to graze my skin and steal my breath and kiss my neck.
I want to walk barefoot on a dirt road with midnight at my heels and
nothing but your old t-shirt on.
I want the swing of the bass to follow me into the morning when my ears are ringing and my
feet are tired from walking and my mama is standing at the door with her hands on her hips.
I want my knees to shake when that deep voice booms on that dirty mic-
I want my tongue to swell at the sound of the down beat as I’m roundin’ the corner to my room.
I want my heart to ache when my ears grow numb from that heavy pulse.
I want my eyes to take in the somber chill at the end of a song when the strips of morning glaze over the dusty horizon on a Sunday.