A. D. Winans

The Demise of Jazz in North Beach

no cool cats in North Beach anymore
no cool cats blowing the horn
no jazz at the old Purple Onion
nobe-bop snapping fingers
no fallen angels spreading their legs
on the way home after a conversation
with God
no black cats improvising the blues
no white dudes riding the midnight express
no stoned soul train musicians blowing
mean clean notes crucified suffocating
in the smoking mirror of their minds
gone buried in the decadence
of collective madness