Hot Night Cool Jazz Good Dogs



Saint Bernards discovered Dante’s Inferno.

With those warm coats summer’s a bitch.

Good dogs don’t belong in hell.


Pearl Street reached 100 degrees.

100 degrees is still a reach for Boulder.

A crowd hovered around those horns.


The saints were hot that night.

Tails and tongues wagged to the music.

Everyone heard sounds worth sinking teeth into.


Hot dogs had pink wash cloth tongues.

A lick could cover the faces of children.

Some wandered up to pet shaggy coats.


Those huge mouths could fit whole heads.

Luckily they were lovable dogs.

They didn’t mind children messing with their threads.


Cool Jazz filled audiophile ears.

People danced to the rhythm.

The dogs just panted instead.


~ by dianeklammer on June 13, 2013.

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