We Seem Like Misfits But

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                                                                     A version of this poem was originally published in Epiphany

we’re upstairs @ Ronnie Scott’s jamming 

jazzflamencobossanova fusion / plein de désir 

comme Piaf / we pay homage to the greats 

who once graced this stage / sing 

in candle lit smoke / belt for broke 

on high notes / swing in saffron warmth 

of saxophone / sway like sheets 

in summer breeze / a rainbow of skin shades 

éclatant / we sip absinthe / sugar cubes 

aflame / float on fused melodies 

& dodge bulletlooks. That’s what jazz 

does: it shields our throbbing core.

Sheathed in its harmonies / we stop buckling 

to fit stifling boxes / hack our own paths 

des notions brisés / sont balayées 

on the dance floor as we lindyhoptango 

because we cancan. 

We glide back to Barbican / buzzed

& burst open / sink into dreamless 

sleep / rise to plow through 

stilted boulots / fueled

by the fading pulse.