Friday Noir: Smooth Criminal
Rain ticked on the window.
The stack of wax Coltrane spun, a Love Supreme indeed.
The whiskey burned the back of the throat.
Or maybe it was the pull on the Lucky.
Appropriation has it’s place, driven by avarice.
In the deep part of the night, it’s all or none.
The sax drops in, like a pickaxe going to work.
Your luck becomes your wisdom.
Everything was changed now.
It sure as God was.
© Mark V. Krajnak | JerseyStyle Photography | All Rights Reserved 2014