I don't question where the muse goes,
the unbridled, quick reflex that leads me to pick out books on a bookshelf,
the random internet post that leads me to an article,
a list of tracks I should be listening to,
so when I stumbled upon your name on a list,
I thought I'd give it a go.
The "Jezebel" of Jazz,
you bucked trends by not singing in an evening dress,
preferring skirt and band jacket
to place you squarely in the band
instead of in front of it.
The wikipedia entry says
through a botched tonsillectomy
it left you without a uvula
Thus you created a percussive, short note style
because you couldn't hold long phrases or use vibrato.
So surprised that I'm not hearing
"I'm going mad for a pad," filtering out through some weird internet commercial for Apple,
but, hey, maybe they're not as hep as I think I am.
Jump jiving Jezebel, you join Kenton, Goodman, Krupman, Herman,
you loved pot,
and moved on to harder stuff
that surprisingly didn't claim your life,
but spent months in jails
and talked candidly about your usage, your struggles with "the life."