Jazz

[paxsan]

Mid-afternoon as quiet as can be
inside a bustling city, cars telling you
what you forgot
on a high note. Your cheekbones
are my wishing bone, tied
with great care
yet barely, to the reverse end
of my drunken hands. Such giddy
pleasure having you
at mere arm’s length; this crazy
saxophonist bent
double, smuggling last breaths
over the pulsing border.
Light ceases, in between
the gust of wind
has died
beside the blackness of your eye,
the silence now
grows viscose [/b]viscous
with defeat.

Hmm finding this one hard to comment on, I like it but not sure why, not quite my thing. The lines in italics (light ceases .... your eye) something there doesnt quite work for me but not sure what or how to sort it sorry.
Viscose looks to be a typo/spelling error to me.
I wish I had some useful comments to make, sorry. Keep on writing, it has some great images in it.