The Jazz - Poem by Maia AlmediaAmir
But I'm finally reading.
The soft core jazz is mocking me.
Telling me of posibilities;
Midnight detectives and
Vagabonds and academics.
The music tells me I could be all three.
If I needed to be.
Like a mid-nineties heroin tale,
I'd be nimble and heartless and
Exactly who I needed to be.
The jazz thinks this cramped bed
Is another coffee shop,
Back when people smoked and laughed.
And I'm sat at the dim corner-table
Where the sax won't
Me and my book, we're shadow's
We could be an old man's dying regret;
Or an infant's first ambition;
Or anything in the vast inbetween.
But I'm just lazy.
And sat writing poetry.
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