new days in normal heights

I got a parking ticket today, and after the
movies I passed out in my car listening to NPR.
I was in fashion valley when
a security guard tapped on my shoulder,

"sir, are you alright?"

"yeh"

two fine blondes walk by,

"I'll be leaving soon . . ."

I pulled out of the parking lot,
two fine pairs of legs neither for you
or the security guard or the officer who wrote
you this ticket.
I light my cigarette,
feel inside my pant pockets but
no cash, only a ticket and the gas needle is
on low. the tires are low.

I make it anyway, It's a
miracle I make it to where I am going with
no police to run the plates
for an impound,
no chance.

I get home to the piano and
play Debussy,
but all I want to do is play the Blues, but
much practice and patience and profound proficiency
will make it all come true.

oh, but those two fine blondes... how I could
only wish for chance and light and
the goodness of their hair so warmly
flowing into mine,
eyes wild with youth and adventure
and I could play them Debussy!

so I play to the thought of them
but they will not appear,
I pound into the keys more desperately for the
sunflower hair and eyes of ocean blue
but they will not appear.

I light a cigarette and fill the deadness
of the white air,
sit in front of this machine
and wait.

and wait . . .