Blue and just as dark, the operating room is the urban landscape,
Illuminated by fluorescent street lamps that flicker and fizz like the overhead lights.
Nighttime, a procurement running late.
Smoke from the grates along the side of the road dance in the light like the wisps of the Bovie tip’s smoke.
A man and his drum, beat after beat, flex like the heart.
Next to him another man, breath held, with saxophone in hand, clutched tightly at waist height, and silent.