so predictions come true after all

heading back where you once were,

a genuine déjà vu

experiencing the now,

groovin to easy rumblings from this virgin red basement

wondering exactly where does that current begin?

and given the duality of word consciousness

pulled back over the “rational”,

wondering if this dream will unfold in black or white

this time roll of the dice

yes, currents not only begin, Mr. Jones,

but sometime overflow or dry the hell up all the way to Gila Bend

if it’s that miserable, sir

see, you walked in here naked

and done so at the exact time,

so you gotta fly with right wings,

cause you’re at the mercy of their particular world,

whatever it be

with or without reason,

so long as there’s a flow to feel,

still, it’s okay-at least you’re not stagnating

so it is with life to keep me company,

amazed I can see this place opening up,

amazed I am welcomed here

as some familiar stranger

just passin through another snowy December afternoon

where citizens are comfortable with the seasons,

yet it is I who cannot find familiar faces

unless I peer inside this lifeless silence,

and hang on to my idealism

till there is no time left to bother about

left or right of politics

Binghamton

5/17/73