• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 11
Image by

A lil’ bit of night music

I played Vivaldi to the tomatoes
so I played jazz to the dog.


Those tomatoes - they were Baroque,
Baroque and Baroll, but this dog -

he ain't got no Bach, but he got howl - he's a jazz dog!
He's a three-am-bar dog, whisky sours
until that hot dawn comes pulling
at your heels doing the beat
with those daring-flared shoes.

That's why he won -
he's a pizzazzy pijazz hound.


That's nonsense.
        And you know, Gerald,
        You can't live your life through a dog.
        That's called being vicarious.
        Now come and help polish the trophy cabinet.

Beeswax duster and a head tilt
from those floppy ears
and a look in the eyes
like a hundred years
of music.

Yeah, he's a jazz hound.
He's a jazz dog.