REACHING OUT

Reaching out on my pad
when everyone is sleeping
hearing a few birds
in the alley way
of my old Manhattan building
it's July's restless fleeing
of star dust out to the suburbs
in a whistled pace of time
chance handing me
an Indian summer shirt,
towel and snorkel
as an angel neighbor,Gertrude
puts me in a better mood
lets me borrow Stan's telescope
questioned in an all night hope
of a Beat poet
heading for the gazebo
to hear the steamships dock
on trained ears Staten island gulls
circling over rocking waves
flying by tree branches
in the humming bird morning
my pea jacket shadow leans
over an uncertain kayak
in the silhouetted wind
embracing dawn's flight
of open city grackles
trail me in the waters bush
near the outback rivers
to sway to smooth jazz
playing as my collected words
always return alive
in these hallways
from a rush to my memory.