shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Ann Christine Tabaka


Jazz Club

The lights dima horn wails
smoke and whiskeyfill the room

A voice like silk
from some long past era
hearts mellow  tears spill

Bodies sway  fingers snap
Feet s h u f f l e
 across the floor

Hushed voice  conversations
glasses clink toes tap

Drunk on  atmosphere
a slice of heaven on a paper plate

High notes - low bows
the jazzman walks off
claps and whistles follow
the lights rise