Cool Like Jazz.

It begins.

Cool Like Jazz.

Left, right, left, right.
Feel the street and hold it tight.
Left, right, left again.
Eyes to front and show no pain.
Right, left, right, left.
Arms are loose and mind adrift.
One man stands, his gun in hand.
He’ll soon become one with his land.
Another bends and squeezes tight.
Step to the left.
Shoot to the right.
Right, left, right, and turn.
Should’ve stayed cool,
now dem’a burn.

Left, right, left, right.
Feel the day ease into night.
Left, right, left once more.
Shoulda never called me whore.

I have six books in the queue and three of them are aching to be written. I’m not sure which one I’ll write first, though my instinct says all three. Jazz is cool and hot and ready. The Stream is calling and Robin is anxious. And Heavy? Well, he’s never been exactly patient and he brings Foss, Jeanne, and Eddie with him.

I’ve finally learned to write and I’m feeling like maybe it’s time to put a hurt on something.

right. left. write again.