jazz

just the two of them
sheltered under the stars
in their little garden
where the grass
has burned
under a june sun,
and they listen to a Stan Getz album
softly playing,
as they down, silently,
the 2 liters of 12 franc
red wine they bought
that same morning
on the market
behind the church.
the guy says to her
-I would like paradise to exist
so that I could meet this jazz-
man,
and tell him that I like
his work.
-yes, that would be nice,
she answers.
-there’s only one thing that
bothers me.
-what? she asks.
-do you think saxophones go to heaven?