Boogie-Woogie Blues

[Inspired by an afternoon at Jamboree in Kings Cross]

Painting tomorrow in boogie-woogie blues,

I'll pack my bag and head to Jamboree

Where hands run free upon the piano.

Below wooden beams saturated in sounds from the 1930s,

Honky-tonk train blues blow through the narrow Streets off Kings Cross -

Crazed on afternoon acid,

Preparing for night-time narcotics.

Whispers echo from this time-warped warehouse

Tucked away in London's transient Texas.

Sipsmith's distillery

Now home to the Scottish thistle,

Basks in the beauty of boogie-woogie blues,

Under August's absurdity.

Summer stillness.

Melancholic magic.

A pianist lost in liquor inspired langour.

A corner of Persian cuisine

Crafts seductive aromas,

Swallowed by bottles of Siwucha

And invisible individuals on this sun-kissed Saturday.

Winter wishes dance whimsically

Through this wooden warehouse -

Echoing from the ether,

Yet silenced by serenity.

Washed away in warmth.

The piano persists.

"River - stay away from my door".

"I hate to see that evening sun go".

For it shall soon disappear -

Washing away today's dreamy delusions.