On the Steps of the Ritz

The tunes a playin'; the night a strollin';
People watchin'; people gawkin'

Where do the summer nights go?

Brain wasting away; potential lookin' for a rooftop to liberate it; to set its bonds free; to create, to articulate, to express its need to plug away idea after idea.

Each person, drone, body; colours, scents, pleasantries, nods, shakes, greets & parts - Why, why, why? To fill the void? To fulfill potential? To meet an image of what the world should be? To create it? In this climate, it's once a hear; a breakin' free... of the cold. that life can inspire like this, subsist like this, day in and day out in the south is tantalizing.

Alcohol is made for this place; this feel; this state of mind. Replace it with caffeine and you turn carefree nonchallance into the vibes that are the essence of that which defines our path through life. Let it flow unchecked and you get jazz, of the spirit, of the pen, or, most often sought, of the hormones. There's no question the city speaks; a different language in each geographic incarnation.

Then what? Write? Listen? Show. Teach. Delve into it. Craft it to logic, sense,purpose; an end to the chaos; a goal, tangible. Otherwise, what's the motivation to succceed? It's all too easy.