penta-blue
It's a pentahouse, blue with slow
jazz. Eyes peer expectantly around
in slow motion, movie stills
flashing, one after the other
ladies with their plumage ruffle
their feathers, showing their colors
refracting brass notes off exposed
shoulders into the breathy eyes
of young and old men. Wooden
floors milk the sounds rounding
and smoothing stones with the
Cro-Magnon embedded deep
in the trunks and rings of the
once full tree. Enough Absinth
and LSD flow from the tips
of the musicians' nimble fingers
sending the hallucinatory,
psychoacoustics to play
the ear drum and keep the
cochlea awake for the signal.
Hit the refrain, if you can find it,
"don't make the move too soon."