You came in 

maybe twice a month 

it was straight out of an Alicia Keyes song

more than condensed milk

and sugar in tiny packets

because I thought 

you were

not only sweet

baby boy

but also 

so damn fine

breezing through 

taking the last swivel chair

surfer-dorky-Berkeley cool

in plaid and puka shells

I was not yet me

not the me I know right now

I was the me you will never see

what you saw 

was weariness

and quiet

you mistook

for lack of words

or worldliness

I helped you

keep that illusion

afloat

Contented 

with stolen glances

and the rare times our 

fingers met

over 

that plate 

of Monte Cristo.

Fluorescent man shines like a star

deep down a fire, igniting the crowd

convinces himself of his radiant colors

lets harshness of street flow right through

looks like he belongs nowhere, his own man

spreads the moods of his meadows in air

sheds binding chains, takes different roads

in preposterous lonely twists and turns

a renegade who desires to soak in own stars

questions existence but doesn’t question mine

sees the round world from a square perspective

barefoot life walker never punches a clock

gathers fragments of spirit from outside himself

brings rays of light to his own deep shadows

sand pearl of the street looks back and sees

himself right where he started as he sits

in his own high place where ordinary fails.

Now we stand out together as if we exist.

Little one

You are surrounded 

By we troubled souls

Who remember innocence

Little one

You are shielded 

By a common awareness

That you are unaware.

And strangers smile at one another

Knowing each remembers.

Ahead of me in line

I catch a glimpse of two tiny white feet

sticking out from a baby seat,

uncovered on this October morning,

the soles black.

Around each of the frail ankles

lies a faint ring of grime.

When the baby’s face bobs into view

I see that she’s captivated

by the jeweled butterfly on my lapel

and smiles wanly.

Shall I pin the treasure to her stained sweater,

spirit her away,

teach her the names of all the creatures that fly.

Shall I wash her sooty feet with the finest velvet

and dry them with my hair.