the sounds of bass
guitar
and high hat
emanating from your ear buds
fills me with the sensations
of 1920's chicago
or maybe it's new york.
i stare at you intently
but you just flash your
sweet,
nonchalant smile. memorising
whatever the word of the day is
in whatever newspaper you're reading.
your hair gets flipped back because
it's getting in your eyes,
and your legs
kicking freely in the air, while you smirk
as you fill the blanks
of yet another crossword of the week.
and as the song ends
on a shrill squeak from the trumpet,
you smile that
sweet,
nonchalant smile, and
proudly proclaim:
i'm done.
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