Bird On The Wing

by D.B. Cox

you traded

your cabaret card

for somebody's

idea of paradise


& now --

you're standing

outside a club on

52nd street,


the rain, beating

a philly-joe solo

on the brim of

your fedora


can't even get

your fucking foot

in the front door

of the jazz joint


they named for you 

bird, the man

who could glide over

chorus after chorus


smooth, sure, & fast

as your little sister's

ass, & never run

out of things to say


bird, "liberator of paris",

"king of bebop" --

gets another royal

welcome home


so, what now --


the jazz clubs

are being replaced,


with strip dives


& they're playing

rock & roll

over at the

paramount --


claiming, bop's

just an outline

of the past,

a graveyard ghost...



but you can

come with me --

if you wanna go

to kansas city


a place where you

can play without

a goddam license

& you won't have to be


charlie parker with strings;


you can be free --

a bird-on-the-wing...

Bird On The Wing by D.B. Cox

© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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