b.z. niditch | boston cotton club


The Duke came
tasting a jazz Sunday
Mon Oncle from Paris
hid me,
a kid in short pants
under the bannister
by the long stairs
watching others dance
nothing embarrassed me
hoping that I would learn
to earn a living
on the spot
telling me where
a drug pin
called King Solomon
got shot,
here blowing
all the human stops
crowded with g men
agents and cops,
enjoying the scene
a guy asked me
to play the piano
how did he know
that was my dream
I will never know.

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