Miles
to go
it is saturday night
Ornette Coleman has done the dididahdoodah
of Lonely Woman
now Miles Davis stick-fingers and
strong-arms his horn
blowing trumpet
terse
swinging
having a gas
laid down on the track sure but made just
then
no fishing for a tone centre
no flatted fifths
just finishing what’s left
playing on but never through
finding a place to leave it
but not letting it die
no one leans on the rhythm section.
everyone stands on their own toes
she says, can’t you see the red jacket
The chain shining against brown skin
he walks his eyes warily
swivels like he’s about to throw a punch
she says you know women in the clubs at
night
opened their legs under the tables
when Miles played his horn in the lower
register
and they didn’t know it
she bends over looking for Stormy Weather
we improvise
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