winter is outside
my window again. it is
the broken spine of
a beggar trying
to walk
like
Duke Ellington.
it is that
Kinda Blue
frigid sista who
flooded by neon
solicits a man
who'll make her
SCREAM
like Miles Davis'
horn.
winter is outside
my window again. it is
the bag-Lady Day
carrying wind
in her veins and
Strange Fruit in her
shopping cart.
it is that soup line
be-bop
jazzed sorta
hop to keep the cold
from infiltrating
your posture.
winter is outside
my window again as
the profound sound of
bluesicians abound
in cold tears,
in chatter,
in homeless souls
trying hard
to matter
in this frigid
smoke-ringed city
of tin cans,
out-stretched hands
and a chorus of
indifference...
if you listen closely
and you'll hear
their hymn...
yet we coolly
divert our eyes
and close our ears to
them.
One.
copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross
