Artwork Sourced From Pinterest. Artist: Unknown
The Heart’s Sheet Music
by Antonio Rocco S. (The Prince of the Power of the Air)
She’s sitting in her office, Leaning back in her chair, Stilettos propped on her desk. She has two magnums on her desk: One’s a .44 she keeps loaded. The other’s a bottle; It keeps her loaded. I stand in her doorway, And she tells me, “It’s pointless to try drowning your sorrows In a river of whiskey; They’ll just learn to swim.” A cigarette dangles From the corner of her mouth. Her red lipstick matches the neon sign Bleeding through the blinds. She crooks her finger, and I come in. She tells me about her troubles, Leaning in close. Her breath is hot on my ear, But her words are cold. Life has thrown her punches, But she’s no coward; The only thing that runs is her nylons. She’s a musician at the local nightclub. She’s still wearing her dress from tonight’s performance, And if all goes well for me, She’ll still be wearing it tomorrow morning. Her body type? An hourglass with a few extra minutes. And I certainly don’t mind the wait. I like my women The way I like my coffee and cigarettes: Full-bodied. My hands long to dance across her white blouse Like a pianist's fingers over ivory keys. She moves in closer, Her lips are a ligature on my reed. When she breathes, My body vibrates, And music escapes from my mouth. She sight-reads the half notes in my pupils As our hearts beat in a syncopated rhythm. Our lovemaking is like bebop. Love begins with a rhythm And becomes an improvisation. Love is proof That the heart has its own sheet music.