City Jazz

Under blue umbrellas
and the heavy honey of jazz guitar
The percussion of rain patter
Consumed an old cafe
Outside in glassy puddles
stood the children of the night
under the city glitter
and the chill of abandonment
in surplus boots and too-thin shirts,
with hallow eyes,
they listened to the old smooth blues
songs that old men sing
and orphans understand.
These broken hearted lullaby's
that keep pretty brunettes swaying
and the heavy raindrops falling
on my wet city at night.
I pulled my hood down slowly,
Stared into the brutal sky
to bathe in the tears of heaven
and inhale the scent of jazz
So slipping off my heels,
I found my way inside
a pale spirit warming slowly
in cigarettes and soul