b.z. niditch | at chez vous


At the Chez Vous club
two shadows
a poet and a musician
both rebels inside
were feeling solitary
to themselves
barely murmuring
but lonely,
going from room
to room
wishing to have
a recital in this space
responding to each
other from all houses
in this doubtful world
full of paradoxes
the maitre de
offered me Bourbon
and bon bons,
from her passing hand
even so
perhaps the lights are on
for a solo performance
when the manager asks me
for a light
and I strike up
a movie conversation
about Les Drageurs
where I killed two hours
in an an old navy jacket
at the sleepless dusk
and the manager said
that film changed his life
without a grimace
asked me
about my profession
and I pulled out
from my silent jacket
a pocket poem
he smiled
and later chased me down
to play my sax
and to give an urban read.

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