Jazz Lounge

Jazz Lounge is different.
Magical, in a sense.

People sit around at little tables
in ones,
twos,
and threes.
But mostly ones.

There are all kinds of people.
Artists painting
only what they feel,
not what they see.

The music takes over.

Everything.

The food suddenly tastes better.
The music controls.

The artists paint bright colors
in perfect lines
but the perfect lines aren't perfectly straight lines.
In fact,
they're not straight at all,
but wavy,
bendy,
they paint the shape of the music,
even though there is no shape at all:
they create it themselves.

And every shape fits.
Even though none of them look similar.

And nobody moves,
other than the words spilling from
critics' pencils
and paintbrushes flitting on
cream colored canvases.