some of you

don’t like cats nor jazz

you can’t control them

they know the rules

and bend them anyway

(or break them altogether)

you can’t stand things that

don’t fit into neatconsistent predicTable

order lee

so don’t like jazz nor cats

nor cool cats, bebop cats

who go where they want

wander, tricky, sneaky

get a notion, get curious, experiment

jump on a whim, turn on a dime

out of control

digging those scratchy sharp-nine’s

pawing at major-minors and augmented fourths

dragging notes around as if they don’t belong

anywhere sometimes

making your head swim and

sometimes making us feel, well,

sexy and smart and sophisticated

Monk Parker Baker, them cats

out at night

always landing on their feet

on the edge of polite society

cats sunning themselves in the window, saying:

yeah? eh?

i’m too sexy for your couch

too sexy for your flat

what you think about that

so go ahead

scratch your head

makes no difference because

they’re cool

very, very cool and they know it