The last time I went out to eat with Denise she plucked out a hair and flossed her teeth. She grows one fingernail long so she can clean under the others. She’s not ashamed that she’s self-contained, and I want her but she doesn’t need a lover.
Denise plays her own jazz and she likes to improvise. But she’d rather go solo and rock out on the vibes. She closes her eyes tight as she kicks out those covers. Movement furious, nothing spurious. And I want her but she doesn’t need a lover.
Man, she’s hot. Denise digs the vibes. But she don’t mind if I watch, so I still get a rise.
I got a chance to jam with Denise during her North American tour. And we were on fire that night, we played five or six encores. We’re a grooving machine and she lets out a scream with angels and me floating above her. Denise was diggin’ my vibe for the very first time, and for a few moments there maybe we were lovers.