I am a man on the scene,
entering the room,
colors blur around me,
forming a cascade of warmth.

Records scratching,
Percussion booming,
Saxophones blaring,
the jazz is brewing.

Souls pouring out on the dance floor,
chatter litters the room,
they display a vivacious armor,
never revealing gloom.

The splintering sounds of heels fill my ears,
a willowy woman in green takes place at the bar,
a master of balance


in a room of instability and deceit.

I loom near the bar
ignorant of the sneers and snickers behind me,
the woman appears gracious
yet she turns away disdainfully to laugh with her fellows.

My senses burn with hurt,
my passions consume hate,
I realize we cannot be together here
black and white: I am alone

I am now a man fleeing the scene,
desperately trying to escape the glares and stares,
bitterness scathes my shoulders as I abscond,
retreating from the south, heading back to my north.