Happy 93rd, JC.
Summer is slowly dying.
Autumn is slowly dawning.
I’m on a fast train home from work
& I’m reading Autumn Rivulets
In Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.
The cool creatives leave my name
Off the invitation list. It makes me sad.
They won’t let me worship at Uncle Walt’s
House because I sleep with woman.
But they have no control over what I read
When I am on the subway home.
Not that it matters; I do as I please.
Knowing doesn’t solve my problems.
I see spirits dart and dash through
The stacks at work. I never see
Them arrive but I catch their departure
Out the corner of my mind’s eye. It’s not new –
I’ve always seen spirits in libraries
And at the house my mother called home.
Sunship was the first JC album I bought.
It was 1969 at a tiny record shop on Tate Street.
What the hell was I thinking spending
My paper route money on this “confusion”
And “garbage” as my parents called it?
Truth is, Giant Steps may have been a
Better place to lose my virginity.