Home » Jazz Articles » Jazz Poetry » Rue Linnei
Rue Linnei
Christina does not cover up as she hangs some towels to dry. Leaning forward, the geraniums bow their heads at the touch of her skin.
I steal a glance, imagining the taste of salt and flowers on my tongue. Despite the heat there is a breeze in the courtyard, caused perhaps by the tiny space between each building, a closeness which makes the sidewalk gasp for air. The green of the trees rustle.
It is like a secret, the sound of a quickly running tap or the metro as it glides to a stop.
Out front, everything remains still. I whistle some Django so she will know that I have gone and she can cover up.
Tags
PREVIOUS / NEXT
Become a Sustaining Member
Since 1995, All About Jazz has championed jazz as an art form and supported the musicians who create it. Over three decades, it has grown into one of the world's leading jazz resources, serving hundreds of thousands of readers, musicians, presenters and industry professionals each month.
Help Build the Future of All About Jazz
Your support helps us continue building All About Jazz for the next generation—expanding our editorial coverage, preserving jazz history, developing new community features and creating better ways to discover the music and the people behind it.
Become a sustaining member for as little as $20 per year and you'll immediately enjoy an ad-free experience along with access to subscriber features and future articles for a full year.
Together, we're not simply sustaining All About Jazz—we're building its future. Thank you for being part of the journey.
