tomaso:
where are you
old man?

the last blink saw you
standing in your leathers -
grey hairs ever wayward
with your buddy holly glasses -
holding forth with coffee
on some soho summer night

you were bragging about
the new poetry reading
on howard stern,
cocked in a moment of new york
joy, that special literary joy:
sweetest street
redemption

you looked up &
noticed poet-boy starving in the eyes:
you immediately offered to buy me
food & coffee -

i was grateful for your
laser comprehension


tomaso:
are you
with rumi now,
whirling
to that next great gig
way way uptown?

by god, get me that cup
of coffee, next time
i see you!


ii. & here is the song:

poets & misfits
& beautiful losers
hanging on downtown
street corners

carving life
from the raw
experience

making history.