Lovers Love Jazz

I’ve loved Chicago since Darius and Nina.
Never smoked a cigarette, but I would if love and poetry called for it. Crisp white shirt and a soft worn leather jacket, dressed in twists and intrigue. Spill my soul on a mic to perfect strangers, tell them about him and us.

I haven’t craved a man since the last time I listened to jazz music. The unfamiliar pattern of comfort and knowing, jazz and love just fit. So tonight when I heard Cassandra Wilson and the nostalgia took over me, and like Sanchez I remembered love…I gave in. I smelled the smoke, heard the strum of the bass, and white words sticky with red surfaced. Chicago.

Carrie liked a melody. But Big…Big liked jazz. Its a warm hand on the small of your back. Its merlot and wine glasses with lipstick stains. Its old oak tables you made love on that once. Its a twelve minute song with six words and a chorus. Its pocket squares and high heels, kisses on your neck and hands in hair. Lovers know.

And in the recollection I allowed myself to solicit the universe. Send me, I asked, a lover of jazz. Of love. Of smoke and sanctuary. Of bass lines and scat riffs. Of dancing. Of crisp collard shirts and public displays. Of rainy nights and urgent kisses. Of natural light and endless talks. Of Nancy Wilson and Charlie Parker. Send him to me and I will love him and we will love jazz.

In the words

So yall know I’m addicted to words…they’re my first love. Music is my boyfriend #2. Last night I was reading lyrics to one of my favorite writers, Sara Bareilles, and I got inspired to head to the Black Poetry Cafe-where I often post and read poetry.  I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to say though…I was torn between wanting to write about the openness to possibility, and my mind wanting to write about intangible desires.  I couldn’t get it together.  Some how some way I couldn’t get Sanchez’s Poem#3 outta my head

I gather up

each sound

you left behind

and stretch them

on our bed.

each nite

I breathe you

and become high.

Written by Sonia Sanchez

Most people will recognize that as the first poem Nina ever told Darrius in  Love Jones after their first date (well…before the reggae spot). Anyway, the lines “I breathe you and become high,” kept reverberating through me.  Can you imagine being so intoxicated by a person that you breathe them, just the simple act of inhaling, and become high? This persons being alters your state, without effort or cause. Breathing, something so natural and also repetitive…I dunno I couldn’t escape these ponderings. So I started thinking of my own moments of intoxication.  Yet, the one who intoxicates is, in a sense, intangible (that damn theme again). Needless to say I stepped back and just decided not to write.  Well before I went to bed, I kicked up some pillow talk with The Drug; I’m kind of a sucker for pillow talk-not at all sexual in nature just random thoughts before bed.  Anyway, The Drug asked, “Whats on your mind?” As I knew he would…and I answered, “everything and nothing,” which sparked (apparently) a creative tidal wave. I wrote about 5 pieces last night throughout the duration of our conversation though I think this is the most interesting and one of the most interesting pieces I’ve written, in my opinion.  Without further adieu…the fruits of the love-obsessed insomniac:

I long to hear your voice.
Soft folds of velvet draped across my name.
Dripping slow like honey from my ears
whispers of nothing and everything.
Love in the words fall like raindrops on my skin,
washing me with sweet soliloquies of promise.
Mind falls deaf to the warm caress of your inaudible kiss
heard only with the heart.
Your breath over my body screams of bliss
and is met with an echo of indescribable joy.
What’s more beautiful than beautiful?
Quiet, for the words we are don’t exist yet;
unmatched, unparalleled, prototypical, and without flaw.
Untraceable dialect, foreign tongue, understood by no one outside of We.
Tattooed on my soul invisible to all but you,
“yours” in so many words,
and shouted in deafening silence.

Written by JessJ.