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Riding The Jazz
It’s a crazy morning
In a good way,
You know, the place
Is nearly full,
There’s that wonderful
Hum of people chatting,
Jazz rolling in and about
The din of conversation,
Then she walks in,
A stunning slender woman
Engines running,
Hormones burning,
Igniting the air
She passes through,
Insecure females flinching
Unattached males staring
Attached males peeking,
There’s not a sound
As she is speaking,
Just her voice riding
The jazz.
Stephen Nesbitt © .
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