thedead

Your lips take mine, slowly pressing passion
hitting staccato rat-ta-ta-tat
late night trumpet.
Your energy for Miles making tounges wail.
And I? Well, I swallow notes whole, stealing
glances through my eyes,
looking for Coltrane.
Slow jazz kiss.
We're lost in passages of time.
Rhythm beating, Ella singing,
your lips take mine and I am beating,
beating exchanges for my soul. My head getting
dizzy as you get me Gillespie with the breath in
Louis Armstrong's cheeks.
I want to be Ipanema,
lovely and making you go "ahh."

My lips pressing your lips with a slight tounge
lick and the bossa nova swing of Antonio Carlos
Jobim.
The slow, sensual sound of Billie
haunting when I'm not around.
The blood circulating chaos once the Bird
Man flies off the ground.
I want to be the mouthpiece awaiting your
mouth locked in a jazz kiss.