that's jazz (a night with a russian big band)

does a work song speak in a new kind of coal
here at the harmonic end of the train car
some furrowed hymnal barely forgotten ; over
the din of history and the bustling rim snaps off a quarter dig

the spokes keep comin' on down to the river
light blue in the clouds of barely-made-out faces
blowin' big cheeks full of: I know where I'm goin'
but I don't know how

it's a funny cast from up here
white arches old imperial eyebrows draped in suede
familiar faces twitch along with the second hand
tune up and Blok starts beating away at the snare
grey eyes and all locked *jangling* -in *snap* pull
the lever on the slot machine

three seven *snap* ace *slide* back down the other side of the ladder
slowly being pulled out beneath him
a glum Gumilyov in a funny mustache holds his sax
and snaps along

the reeds can really spit a chewed up loop around a Charlie Parker question
mark ; you know the resolution if you heard the turn around
back to the furnace

some aristocrat takes his seat near the tick-tack colonnade
a Count Basie bouncing around in a stage coach
"Night and Day"

a young cat stretches out on his trombone slide
way out to the back wall and beyond
knocking the hat off the next door neighbor

the baritone is a nephew of Miles and still not 'round the bend
the saxes trade a pentatonic lick for a couple of bars and send some stamps from here to Chattanooga
Nat King Cole whispers in Mayakovsky's ear and the bespectacled band leader – eyes wild – squeals

"When I Fall In Love"
runs off stage mid-trolley-ride to smell his bouquet of flowers tossed from the corner by the Count himself

a young couple on the balcony nervously touch fingers count to five and continue
not speaking she wears a ring on her right hand and a large bronze ride cymbal dangling from her left ear dragging her entire head all crooked hanging down to the floorboards

quite a sight but by now everyone is checking their watches
"The Very Thought Of You"
"My Kind of Love"

the commotion spills out all bubbly like off-brand Champagne bottled up onto the street
and vanishes without a sound
no one followed the ghost parade

they all got lost in line for the coat room
or down the chute of the third trombone
we'll try to get them loose – *womp* || *thud*

well folks: that's jazz