A Pome a Day for a Year

Skab ba bee bee bop dop do dop,

Jazz!

Bab bee bee bop boo bop skib dop.

Cats!

Bee boop bop bop boop beep.

Blazing saxophonic jams!

Skibibibi boops bee bop dops.

Piano twinkles, string plucks!

Skabab oooh be ooo skip skob,

The coolness of an army of cucumbers.

Skippi skip zoob zop.

Carefully constructed illusions of freestyle!

Beep skiddi beep boo bop.

Loosen that neck tie you square!

Skrapdipap skeep skeep doooooo.

The figures at the table bob heads,
like a murder of crows surveying
a lone worm feast to be snatched
by one, and drink from cold glasses
misted on the out and smooth brown
within.

Ice rattles and laughter flows into
smokey air as musicians furiously pluck
bass and angrily expel air through brass.

Eyes flit from group to group
as music tumbles from stage to table,
clawing for attention with every other note.

The purposeful malaise increasing tenterhook
and toes, that final drop tone on the precipice
of patience.