The Lonely Jazz

He sits and he waits while he plays.
He plays jazz for nights and nights days and days.
Waiting,
Waiting for something in the light of darkness.
He dose not look sad or even mad.
He just sits there and plays his lonely jazz.

Riddle Poem

I like to carve the sunny pavement.
I cannot fly but I'm like a plane.
I can carve the cerb in the warm braise.
I provide transportation, i can give a ride
I make sounds like shh clink clink
What am I