CAMBRIDGE ST,BOSTON
1971

Listening to
Coltrane's "Evidence"
afraid and alone
on Cambridge Street
despising any
writer's colonialism
or pop culture
with the second show
sleeps us in
watching "Klute"
my hand in your color,
as a poet steps in
a shower bath
conversation with a stranger
who suddenly shows up
saying he is a revolutionary,
my car is abandoned
to a dishy suburbanite
who looked like Lot
backing out of strip clubs
in the Combat Zone.

No straight talk,
Sir,when one is twenty
no longer passing out
tarot cards
after every encounter
session
I'm playing an
impressionable solo
by the Braque and Roll
meant to enlighten us
by a shrinking shrink
from Harvard
with Timothy Leary
for the skinny value
of it all,
life is in space shots
to the moon walk
of what possibility
of being nothing but song.