IN A LARKIN MOOD

In a Larkin mood
with a mod idea of impossibilities
my head suspended in the clouds
awakens from his jazz metropolis
from a riddled commentary
after reading his verse
with a melancholy libation
feeling like a mushroom
by an empty withered snow
near initialed trees
over Cambridge fields
of a soccer match
a street sign again broken
from a fugitive myth
in a hustled languor
of sullen directions
to a sleep housed
sound proof studio
as showers return
with laughter coming down
in the form of a quatrain.