Boogiewoogie Doogiewoogie


Every now and then it is nice to shirk all responsibility, to blow off work -
To go downtown at 3pm on a Friday -
To listen to jazz and scribble in my journal, fueled by Chamblin’s white bean and spinach soup.

To watch birds spread little wings
To watch clouds dance around the sun

To put a dash of cinnamon in my tea.

To watch fathers holding
the tiny hands of daughters;
Men with dreadlocks at waist length
engaging future men in handshakes.

I want to hear the music that the man at the table next to me is making. I want to be surrounded by music at all times. I want to answer the question “do you dance?” with “a-woogie doogie boogie-doogie,” eyes closed and fingers snapping.

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