Half Moon over Harlem

I'm a cat paw stepping man;
suede - fur - satin - back to bottom.
My lips wrap around the tenor sax
like moon-lit wraps a lamp post
for a birthday present.

I'm on my merry way.
Be forewarned, though, a set follows.
Xylophone, too, is about stepping.
We clang the percussion like steam pipes
when it's snowed on 40's Manhattan.

Am I kidding? Only partially.
It was raining when I started.
Saint Nicholas Avenue is wet and shiny.
I'll be jeppers.
There's a half moon over Harlem.

I hear a renegade organ playing,
"For All The Ladies." It's my turn,
band me the sax.
Dedicated to Yusef Latiff
and the oboe.