Striking each raised ebony planck
with the elegance of a fine, tall
lady at a rate which only hummingbird
wings might beat, this rather regal
individual inspired the subconscious
whistle of my long jazz generation.
They'd go like that, and like that,
and we said he didn't understand
with his trapeze acts and tightrope
tricks and fingers all full of whip-
cracks and lightning and he knew
he wasn't meant to do what we said
he should (or could).
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