Body And Soul Poem by Matthew Buchwald

(from Cool to New Thing)

Dusk with a streak of crimson above the trees
Yields to the chill, shivers to the moan of horns;
The far side of the meadow, a hedge with thorns
Trembles and sheds its petals; bottles of wine
Roll empty down the hillside; sweatered backs recline;
Viridian, where twilight seeps through the leaves,
Drops from a palette of moss, daubing the bandstand eaves,
Playing along to the ballad's cool blue design.

Suddenly from the stage comes a squawk,
Then raucous shrieking and honking, furious protest,
Boney fingers dancing a demented cakewalk,
Strangling the melody, while yet immobile
The vine dazed jive junkies begin to struggle
And writhe around on the ground as if in shock.