jump overboard

jazz
figurines danced over a table.
salty feet stumbling at each other.
fear was their rythm and awe.
how was it that they found the music with so much to run from.
greedy eyes watching over their shoulders,
cold hands avoiding to touch,
and feel, and keeping from melting into the scene.
standing up
reasoning there was not,
filtering rays
bolting keys
shattered faces and growing holes.
senseless beating of seconds one after the other,
and then there was no sound at all.
no hands,
no figurines,
no stares at the wall.
no jazz
no edge