His sneakers took beat to the thump in his chest,
And affront that roaring field he counted his rests.
With a wink in his eye,
With a loud wailing cry,
The pink-slipped herald peeled away their flesh;
It clung to their chins, a disregarded mesh.
He poured out notes from the brass;
His fire-engine-cheeks shining like glass.
Swinging his horn from side to side,
He buckled listeners onto the jazzy ride.
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