past lives

November still fosters
sun and dandelions
ragged like this parkette
in which I ply my callisthenics
Tai Chi hone me

leading to the street
is a tunnel of air
I could get lost in there
just walk into infinity

on the high street
crazy Francoise greets me
nice to see you
always nice to see you
but I don't open
ship in the night
no cargo to exchange
still coping with the last
do you remember
do you remember she says
how you used to sell water
in the desert
and how
the brass buttons
on your coat
in Prussia

and there it is
that tunnel opening again
to magic
and to madness