Sittin' with Charlie
By: Ben Slackenov
February 17, 2003
i am sitting in my apartment with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of gin in the other
Playing recordings of Charlie Parker, As I so often like doing
i am watching a thin stream of smoke roll off of the end of my cigarette
The smoke curves like a ribbon up toward the ceiling
Swaying back and forth to the sax
Rising with the drum beat
The smoke has rhythm
It forms into the silhouette of a naked dame
With her breast sloping down to a firm nipple then curving down to a flat stomach
i follow the line of her mid-section down to a vee
That leads between two athletic thighs that taper down to a pair of dainty calves
I want to reach up and touch her supple rounded ass
Except there’s a cigarette in my hand
Instead of a hand full of flesh
i dream she is bent backward in front of me
Moaning off-key at the ceiling
Bird had it all
Rhythm, movement, style, tone,
Sex with a capital “S” rolling out of his sax
He made everybody around him better
The keys glisten like rain drops bouncing off a virgin teenager’s ass
The snare bristles like a cat’s whiskers on her cheek
The symbols ripple like her skin from my first touch
When the bass line starts, things begin to open up
And the sax eases in slow and sexy
The melody is simple, yet holds together long enough
To feel what is coming up next
The notes start to progressively gain speed
They blur together into their own movements
Everything blends together into one fucking gorgeous orgy
i can’t control myself
i have to move, shake, dance, let go
i lift up my cigarette, take a drag
i watch it burn to the butt and a long ash falls onto my shirt
i reach down to brush the ash away
Damn it!
Another fucking wet spot on my pants
