7:45 in a musty old building.
In Room 20-something,
I learned about jazz.

I don't think I quite understood it,
quite as well as
some.
The syncopation made no sense,
and it all kinda
seemed
like noise.

But the black girl in the front,
who closed her eyes when he put on Coltrane,
and swayed back and forth,
hitting her hand on the desk,
I'm pretty sure it made sense to her.

And that goofy guy
who did modern swing dancing.
We all laughed really hard
when he demonstrated one day.
You could see him after class,
shuffling the boogie back on home.

Even though I didn't get it,
I did manage to smile once or twice.
Usually it was when the professor said:
"If there's any errors on the test,
it's because I made it when I was drunk."