jazz drummer plus other notes

the old jazz drummer was barely audible at the mic while introducing the next song — his voice playing ghost notes while his eyes ducked under his panama hat, whose rim stood in for his cymbals and mounted rack


in my recurring fantasy of you, i never get past the intensity of our initial contact — how it disarms you like a swift drug. it’s what keeps me coming back.


on the billboard, a pricey bicuspid the color of buffed sugar

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.