IMPROVISATION#288
MEMORY

Half way
to the laughter
of your large eyes
in a resonance blues
you play tenor sax
after dusk
in a jam gig
relaxing at a Manhattan club
with Warhol prints
staring at you
on the starry wall
someone is always
writing graffiti
over the studio benches
at the empty room
with a one light bulb
in the hallways
outside it is raining,
you catch a neon butterfly
who is one day old
just when you are reciting
a Nabokov poem
from the Russian
in the dark cellar
your breath catches
the pollen descending
from the basement window.