My love is in the ladies' room

My love is in the ladies' room;
I am here alone.

Pretty people wander past,
Colors reflect against the dark panelling:
Reds and blues, yellows and greens,
And I am leaning into the bar for support,
Breathing deep the scents
Presented by the other patrons,
The thick draught
Of alcohol is passing
Hard down my nostrils,
The television set is displaying the news without sound,
Miles, Dizzy and the Bird,
Are channeling through on the syncopated line,
While Coltrane is looking for God in the rhythm,
While younger patrons pass me by
With a slack jaw lack of concern,
Cigarettes hanging down, loosely from their lips.
The bartender is ignoring me again
And there are no peanuts
In the empty bowl before me.

But my love is in the ladies' room.