Jazz Poem by Bobbi Jo Coffey

When the drummer takes up
His syncopated rhythm and
The piano jumps in tight but yet
Loose in a faintly familiar tune
That shimmers like the ghost of a
Cocktail party with pretty ladies
In their black dresses and glittering
Gems picking shrimp cocktails
Off of silver trays held in gloved
Hands by tuxedoed waiters while the
Men folk talk golf and the stock market
Over the trio that continues to improvise.