La Malagueña

Golden liquid.
The crackle of ice against glass.
Polyrhythms set the tempo of the evening.
Jazz is like tangy steel-cold cherries
As they gush with salt and spice.
The switch rocks backwards and
Red hot, the tubes begin to glow.

1969:
The humbucker twang
Finds its home in tweed tonight.
Patent leather shoes
Keeping time himself at bay.

And aught without a word
- like the prodigal son -
A wandering riff comes home.
Like a weary levy breaks
Applause becomes the room.
For nothing quite turns a phrase
Like steel and cherry hardwood.