Kind of Bleu

As the trio plays the smoke covers the windows and the glare of the moon comes across them... beams of magicolor invade my eyes, closed they see the world that awaits me... Piano, sax and bass are my fuels and my mind the engine...my soul is just a passenger inside.

Dim lights and distant crowd, I'm back at the cafe, Davis takes a break and sips from his beer... i draw my eyes around the place again...only shapes bathed in dark and little glows on their faces... devils angels and miserables, music rolls again, then they're gone, all i see are cool cats in black snapping fingers to the drums I'm invaded by this motion so much like Ray..side to side and the piano is almost in my reach... the pace goes down... the piano speaks to me of a city with cliffs and neon lights... it never sleeps but is as dead as my glass... bright and cold the moon is my witness alone, distant car, sirens wail, she's there running free and careless, jumps from island to island in the sky... the neon melts with her and i see her shape bursting of the electric cascade she falls to the lake, the water's revolving the moon reflection and down it goes the water's gone just like my last zip...

Thank you all kittens and cats for this time tonite, enjoy the night for as long as it last, and tip the waitress on your way home.