WALK OF LIFE

You leave in the morning
when it is still dark
with high expectations
on Central Park, West
the sun expected on your back
and trying on a new vest
with first exams on
Fairfield Porter and  Larry Rivers
as repainted lovers of art
visiting the New York school
to a first gentleman's showing
of my jazz poetry on canvas
combing and combining
"A Trinity in Abstract"
in three parts for the faculty
of my opaline iridescent drawing
yet as any adolescent fool
mulling in your bed of sleep
to wait for recognition
on dawns,words,questions
puzzled to cross each pavement
scenting at first September light
at the Red Apple
marking my walk of life
puzzled to cross the pavement
yet it's too early in the day
to think of an explanation
tomorrow you will do better
you may even mail your friend's
dear John or St. Joan letter
or find your way after
to a happy hour malt
after my sporting
a one day mustache
trying to be like James Dean
wrestling in a somersault
when all the sun is gone
and it's not your fault
you almost forgot in the cafe
the very last word
at your last night's reading
as you whisk past
a gravel patch of memory
of that half-buried bird
by a St. Franciscan convent
near the birds you were feeding
near the playground garden
with a lark ascending
where you first played sax
relaxed on a bench
and made the sight -read sound
matched to your airy French verse
you translated all night
not missing out
to swing on any branch
for an image
of which you are attracted,
not yet attached
to any new found boarder
yet with a welcome
to an alien bocce field
wondering if today
you will pick
up Achilles shield
watching your ankle
fixing your sneaker
checking out the disarmed heel
seeing it's in order
seeking everybody's pardon
the clouds begin to rain
in absolute black and blue
to reveal your first quatrain.