an unresolved expedition from the heart

then back again,

across resilient bridges

we go bouncing along

elongating through miles of supposed meadowlands,

Hudson County,

straight ahead urban streets

up and down,

hustling all along the way to

Friday night Jersey drive-in movie

years ago inspired, we pressed on,

a poet’s photographic imagery

Allen divulging Paterson was a garden, unspoiled,

Lou Costello waving to Little Leaguers

on parade down Broadway

past my father’s store,

Bob’s Smoke Shop,

past Uncles Morris and Harry's mill spinning textiles,

while the more responsible worms upstairs,

copulated all day,

keeping the home town biorhythms going strong

yes, we learned

Teterboro must be the only eastcoast airport

where no one has ever been observed boarding a plane,

learned Prospect Park still grows willow trees,

discovered young salesgirls vomit secretly

into brown lunch bags

from solar plexus exhaustion

losing 15 pounds before weddings,

and we observed

Don Juan Matos pedaling his runaway bicycle

through dusk Eastside Park,

cycling from the heart

all the way to Passaic

in time for his high school reunion,

Don Juan's handlebar desert humor

grinning back at us,

guiding we pilgrims to

stop the world

these pictures and more

coming through in waves,

broadcasting live

then what color this tree if these be our roots?

how tastes the fruit if the Passaic River irrigates summertime baseball fields?

when grammar school alleyways vibrate at our shuddering shoulders,

is this all a fortunate circle

where nothing changes

no matter the reflection?

internal billboard reads:

"buy two pairs of rollerskates

have some fun,

lace em up, man,

and keep moving round the track

it’s a roller derby out there!"

sometime soon

predecessors appear

assumed buried,

lost from other worlds of bubblebaths,

pastels,

eggplant parmesan,

hopscotch

Parcheesi, stickball, and

one-eyed Jacks,

smack!

but eventually we dream

in time to witness

the clubhouse burn down,

and with no one in charge,

cops bust us for loitering,

no one left to bail us out this time

a boy’s life is a lesson

testing his manhood,

resolving riddles left abandoned in shadows

later becoming real one last time,

and so the Poets fear stagnation

for patterns cannot be permitted

recalled inside the boundaries of a true life lived

once I was afraid to say “no”

once I remained predictable

once I sat so still my head in my hands

waiting for sentencing

once change came easy

now the wind makes the better friend,

once a magnificent dream could be savored

now there is only surrender to sleep,

once I played the part of the inevitable man

now I study my vanishing youth gazing down from a skyscraper,

once I stooped to observe improbable visions staring back at me

now I slouch to untie my own shoes,

once I dove headfirst for obvious rainbows

once I could dispel decisions made by others for my world,

now I am reduced to emanating the grace of a cat

opening her mouth wide to yawn

for it is this constant Ocean of Winter we are facing once more.

for it is the secrets that scare us into disguising our true emotions.

for it is the neglect that forces us to become carless with each other.

if this is the same sky we all live under,

why then should we not all drown together,

wrapped comfortably in each other’s arms

far from the maddening crowds?

6/20/78

New York City