you know what baby,
I thought about writing this poem
once, twice,
even three times.

it was bad, real bad
because I've been drinking
drinking
drinking
that's the funniest part of all.
as I'm listening to Monk. Thelonious Monk.
Blues-influenced Jazz musician. how I love the pressing of the keys.
how I wish I was there, on 52nd street in New York.
with my people.
often I think even then,
even in the mecca of my being,
I would be sad. eternally sad.
after love has run dry, I'll be in the flower of my blooming
decaying.
dead.

that's how it is.

Louis Armstrong plays now,
"A Kiss to Build a Dream On"
you know, this might not be fantastic.
but it's the mecca of my being.
my soul.
a memoir.
a memoir of my being.
this crazed soul statically running through
the walls of this eternal imagination
run dry.
run dry.