Kit Kat Club
His sax is a Chinese puzzle
glazed in butter to crack and fry.
Reeds zisss, sting fingers, pinch
tongue, sizzle against skin
like Edith Piaf on amphetamines.
Big bottom girls cook,
tight pants slit up the side,
scat-bop-doowop sliding scale,
butter-tongued cats
plumped and creased in red capris,
toes squeezed in shoes
three sizes too small.
Sissy likes jazz, snaps her hips,
sax bends over Sissy's heat
creamed in butter, thighs pressed tight.
Sissy, Sissy, take me home
Cat yelps from stage.
Sax swings gold with juice and lip,
howling, howling
honey on that gilded hook.
Next Loudon Poem
