Music down a windy street -
Springtime trees and scattered petals,
Bright warm yellow door.
Sunny attic, view of clouds -
A gracious blues fan, high on Saturday
Introduces Astral Weeks
By playing it through the wall.
Gina, in the room downstairs, is reading
Short Walk in the Hindu Kush,
And recommending her beloved Zorba,
Jules et Jim, Jacques Tati's Trafic -
And Japanese Macrobiotics -
Enthusiastically pinning to my wall
The grin of Georges Ohsawa -
You Are All Sanpaku!
Brown rice, gomasio, bancha tea -
The spine-rush of energy
Lifting my hair in a thistle-burst
Like mad MacDiarmid on Selected Poems.
Well clear of winter shipwreck
Embedded in warm sand
We wake up laughing.
