The Blue Note Plays                                                                                                                                  K.W. Adamson

 

The Blue Note plays

at the square with the circle fountain;

like the trapezoid trumpet

and the cylinder snare play:

as if they know I lost a friend.

​

Some say that the park with the arch

is the center of the universe.

The Triangle Shirtwaist still set ablaze

in every corner of the night;

its embers rise and clash with dissonances

of Salsa, boombox, The Police and dance;

of downright beauty and upright bass.

 

I look up to the sky to see God’s smile in the stars.

I see only light-polluted clouds, cold and amber.

But still I feel them all here in the square.