In the blue
hushed corners
he played soft
mournful tunes,
blowing through
his mouthpiece,
ring finger
pressing the
front F key.
A note flew
somewhere high -
out of place.
He glimpsed at
a woman
aroused from
her stupor
smiled richly
with a sip
from her pink
hot cocktail.
He caught her
hurried wink,
thought it quite
nice to have
admirers
young, pleasing
to one’s eyes
that barely
see those notes
scribbled wet
on paper.
He caught her
hurried wink
once again
but this time
past him though,
flying straight
to the young
cute cellist.
Readily
he laughed at
the mistake
and poured more
forlorn tunes
into space.
