October 2014: Jazz Sandwich

(Note: I just reworked this poem, originally penned in 1996, as a hay(na)ku. I like it better this way. Hope you do, too.)

Wait 
at the
all night restaurant,

wait
for a
chance to leave

without
paying. Why
not? They've fed

you
nothing but
sugar cookies and

fatty
meats washed
down with bitters.

So
munch your
sandwich and harp

on
your kite
strings and watch

multicolor
dreams dive
and flutter in

shifting
winds. Wait
for that right

someone
to take
to the prom

while
scents of
fried universes waft

from
the kitchen.
Jazz sandwich, jazz

sandwich,
O what
can you be?

Jazz
sandwich, jazz
sandwich taking bites

out of me.

© Bob Loomis
October 2014