become miles high with them.
hear the smooth light breezes
filtering through their tenacious lungs
naked vigor of Neal’s town,
where somewhere along Larimar Street
engine bolts mirthfully loosening
about to deliver more weight
to spark Jack's toothless railroad of the October earth bums
to embrace the soft shadows of near lost buddies
hangin out on some laundromat curb drinkin warm stale beer
or waitin in line by the DAV killing time
out here lost in the rush of things
7/31/73