All night long she keeps
one eye on the tables,
one eye on the stage and
her third eye on every
sweaty hand that wanta creep
up her skirt.

Wearing a skirt’s a bad
idea in a place like this
but the manager says
if she can’t show a
little leg then he’ll show
her the door and she needs
the tips the sweaty ole
hands drop on her tray.

It’s the wee hours of
the mornin’, Dixie Delicious
is dancin’ up on stage with
some big ole white feathers
hooked to her arms, floatin’
around her head lookin’ like
swan wings and her legs’re
kickin’ time to the lonely
moan of the saxophone.

She says it’s lonely but
most say it’s sexy. Same thing,
in her book.
The sax player is dark as
the midnight sky and he keeps
his eyes closed while he plays.
His face scrunches up real tight
when the notes come out wailin’
like a haint on a moonless night
and it makes a shiver up her spine.

There’s other musicians too
but the sax player holds sway
without even tryin’
because he’s a real professional
but his love of Jack keeps him
outa the swankier clubs. Here,
he keeps a flask in his pocket
and nobody cares if he drinks
long as he blows that horn that
keeps the girls dancin’.

______________________________

Shared on dVerse Poets Pub.

Read Part 1 here.