Trumpet song
pierces the dark sky
like a white gloved hand
on black-tie Saturday
A voice soft, silken sings
dripping words carelessly
like dark chocolate syrup
on hot fudge sundae
Heads bob in rhythm agreement
like dark apples in a vat of water
slick, shiny, silent
without words to say
Bodies shuffle in the corner
cold and somber, half-awake
Streetlights glow amber orange
on 5 a.m. Sunday
