Berets, and all that jazz…

At lunchtime
We talked of jazz clubs
And those pretentious intellectuals
Finger clicking
In a haze of smoke

Wearing berets and
Attaching unnecessary meaning to music
That needs no explanation
Because, we all agreed
The music simply speaks for itself

I saw a girl on the tube that night
Wearing a purple beret
I heard finger clicks in my ears
And wondered whether she thought
My notebook was pretentious.

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