she told methat i reminded herof free form jazza little avant-gardeno note like the lasti said, "baby,you know i'm coollike the dark side of the moonlike a snowmancarrying an iceboxwhistling a Coltrane tune"so i playedmy trumpetand boy did she swoona love supremeher and ithose notes bouncedacross the roomlike chocolateshe could taste itin the momentshe never did admit iti could tell byher expressionand the way her hipswould pivotwe danced all nightand into the break of dayand when i wokeshe surprised meand placed my hand on her waistshe said,"you must be imaginaryyou made me feelsome type of waythe way you move that trumpetboy i lovehow that jazz plays"-J.Bright Jr.Art by: Palmer Hayden