the wrong type of bars

playing jazz like
breathing
fire.
love tied
down in
the wrong
cage.
it's always
the wrong
cage.
lost
on the
wrong side
of the
one-way
street.
always
a white knight
running on
empty.
driving
downtown
from a bar.
then finding
yourself
in a cold
dark room.
they have all
the wrong
type of
bars in there.
there's a couple
there with you,
with eyes, and
ears, and yellow skin.
I decide to
name one John Coltrane.
hello,
John Coltrane.
there's another one.
he's a crazy,
somewhere from
Nevada.
he thought he could
avoid them in
California.
I named him
Sonny Rollins.
it's always
the wrong
cage.
the wrong
woman
the wrong
job
the wrong
car
and then theirs
the cage,
the cage of yourself,
smiling stupid at
empty faces,
saying,
"hello"
"goodbye"
"i'm good, how are you?"
and worst,
"i love you".
I look at Sonny Rollins
and say hello,
he blinks
twice.