Ida, if you're reading this, I'm glad that we went for it. when all we needed were a couple quiet days in clichy and a little kansas city. when it was easy, like stepping out for air, after you borrowed your new aunt's dress. after you gave up your sermons for an educated guess. when we were head-rested slow stepping and waxing noetic. when hodges taught me to balance the sax between punch-up and poetic. we were full of that old world smolder then, and main-street meaning-it. still leaning over loose lipped, and hot-damn feeling-it.
But things have been smooth since, and I still play it slow. I still jazz up some patience for Our Lady Of Not Letting Go. and I hope you found some places that gave you some rest. that you still talk it pretty and still write from the chest. I've been over the ocean letting loose with the band. still married to the rhythm of it, and still getting used to its hands.
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