smokey jazz hum, meet me in the back bar
barefoot dance on
worn dry smooth, hardwood floor
warmed by late day sun
sway hip tunes
intimate and private, a perfect meeting
turned over for yearned
mine inside and out
expression left wanting pique
spoken or written, search for another
perfect word, no less
by this telegram or telephone
give pass
take hold of this
with open winged enchantment
and flight me higher
on back of woven prose foresee
one perfect day
breathenoah.wordpress.com 