When the jazz turns on

When the jazz turns on
Spent, in all of the ways
After a deliberate, purposeful week
No task is appealing
No responsibility desirable
The mantra of the minute’s moment
”Avoidance at all costs”

When the jazz turns on

And so I sit
In the corner
Trying to decompress
To let go of the weight
Of responsibility. Of fatigue
And to remember how
To simply be. In harmony
With all that is around me

When the jazz turns on

Mothers rock their babies
Lap dogs unknowingly live
The good life we all long for
Beaus chat with beaus
While beer and music flows
And I, sit in the corner
Wondering why — all nature of things
Why am I here, in life
At this bar, at this brewery

When the jazz turns on

An ode to Cynthia:

Sitting, talking
Getting lost
In the sauce
I’m a loner
I’m a dreamer
Misplaced notions
Romantics, we
end up in graves
like anyone else

Then the jazz turns on

Who’s Cynthia?
A woman.
Need I say more?

I lost my way
I don’t remember
What I was writing for
And maybe
That was the point
To forget it all

And then the jazz turns on