Miles is speaking, can you hear him? 
Constantly asking me why this lady here sings the blues, 
as he continues sipping on the brew he made 
especially for those bitches. 
As the kiss me portrait designed by him hangs behind me, 
Mr. Coltrane sorts thru my madness 
as if he needs a muse for his next piece. 
Taking me on a journey of life lessons, 
letting my eyes witness this art in its raw form. 
Visuals of the Harlem Renaissance cloud my head 
like the smoke in the air, causing me to choke on the past. 
Drowning me with the fire of his cigar 
Realizing I am miles away from 

                                       Miles.