Filles de Kilimanjaro (Miles Davis)

Music like heat haze over
African savannah where
women dance under the mountain
breasts bared defiantly
their men hungry
made to wait.

Five men in New York think different things—
one seeing the dance, one
the beauty of breasts bouncing
another the thud of feet on earth
the fourth how hot it is
the last those men's eyes.

They sweat like they were there
burning in that sun
surrounded by dancers
raptured in rhythm
lost in the haze of lust, finding
one song amidst many.