A COUPLE FOR MIKEY
MY SOME TIME MUSE
for Miguel Piñero
The line:
“Black woman with the blond wig on”
haunts my conscious mind
like a song lyric that will not
go away.
Sometimes I too want
to come back as a blond
and have my ashes
scattered on the Lower East Side
There is no truth stasis.
Keats was off the mark.
Had he just walked
The Alphabet Streets or
stood on the corner of Bowery and Delancy
or even traveled just a few blocks
east of the Apollo,
then he would have known that
the urn is just big jar.
If truth beauty and beauty truth
then maybe some of our best minds
would not have to cook up
a riparian buffer in a dirty spoon
to keep the truth pain away
to save their own life stream.
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