all of it

I think it's all part of some grand
majestic plan
all of this:
yes
you and me
and I
and them
and they's:
all of them.
the man in the bistro
the man in the bar
the man in front of the screen
writing away
into some
estranged world
it's all part of some grand majestic
plan
all of this
this poem
this night
this moon
this galaxy far far away.
it's all the same old shit
these words,
their are 36 of them in the alphabet and
millions and millions more of different colors.
the
stray cats and
the
hot brass trumpets and
red hot saxophones on a 12 bar solo
play into the night too.
it all makes sense as much as the
end
of this poem
this night
and all of that other
stuff
in between.