Because it’s one of those
days months, and jazz makes me think I’m not really here at all, like maybe I’m somewhere else, smoking cigarettes and listening to beat poetry at 1 a.m., or slopping my way through rain puddles to some brownstone where M is waiting with a smile, probably having just escaped their own demons…
Thanks for this. From the first few bars (no pun intended), I was transported.
I think today I’m gonna need some transporting, too.
Cheers to it.