February in Sidney

Dexter Gordon’s tenor sax

plays “April in Pairs”

inside my head all the way back

on the bus from Double Bay.

Round Midnight, the 50’s,

cool cobblestone streets

resound footsteps of Bebop

musicians with whiskey-laced voices

from a boundless dream in French,

Bud, Prez, Webster and The Hawk,

their names run together

like mellifluous riffs.

Painful gods jive talk through

bloodstained reeds and shiny brass

where music is an anesthetic.

Unreadable faces from the human void