The Bass Man and His Bass

Into how many smoke-soaked gin drenched
back alley low ceilinged joints has he fiddled
his old lady, mother, mistress of blurred nights?
Tall, round, her skin a smoother sheen,
a ear open to a gentle, blowing caress-
now all of her fondled like a promiscuous date.
She sparkles as he whispers ardent words,
gives her a twirl as a warm-up session begins,
rising to a passion pitch as the spotlight dims:
Then makes love to her in earnest, shamelessly,
in full view of a breathless, panting crowd.

Blues Alley
Washington, D.C.