You would rather date a guy
who listens to Roy Ayers.
How often does he listen to Roy
Ayers? Was it something he found
cruising Pandora, or while drinking
something fizzy at a party, or was it
a friend playing him the record
freshman year with all the windows
open because it’s hot and there’s no
A/C?

Would it matter if, while listening to Roy
Ayers, he was thinking about a pregnant
friend in another borough, how her
normally statuesque face would scrunch
and pucker during birth? That for him,
Roy Ayers provides a space of reflection,
that he has no opinion about “Roy Ayers”
the way you have “no opinion” about
poetry but he will say, “I’ve listened
to Roy Ayers, and it was nice,”
which is different than the way
you experience Roy Ayers,
but is a positive affirmation of your
taste?

Roy Ayers, you say, is the truth,
and listening to Roy Ayers, really
listening to Roy Ayers, (you say
with your eyes closed) is a thing
I can’t say is nice, because I don’t know
what that means, and we’re at the point
where we sit over empty plates
but before we’ve dug out our wallets
and divided the check and I’ll have
the thought while biting my lip,

what would Roy Ayers tip?