A perfect, deep red rose br Grows into the yard br Through the slats br Of a neighbor’s br Privacy fence. br br The solitary slide trombone br Muted with a bathroom plunger br Plays songs in three-quarter time br From the back of a mahogany bar br br He watches her brush her hair; br Pensive lips turn to a smile, br A silk strap slips from her shoulder, br And a moth flutters behind the sconce. br br Pungent stacks of ancient books br In a basement corner of the library. br The pedals of a church organ. br A pin-up in the choir loft. br br By the shoe-shine stand in the hotel lobby br The tall strong quiet black man br In the whitest tunic ever tailored, br Starched and crackling with gold epaulets, br Calls the little boy sir and inquires about his day. br br Blue sage and an open road br A cherry ‘66 GTO in dusky blue br For sale, in a yard of tall grass br Next to the avocado green br Refrigerator listing to one side. br br Programming in Basic with punch cards; br Adhesive tape holding things together br At the bridge of his nose. br br Climb teetering boulder fields; br Linger at the top br As storm clouds gather below. br Descend late through fragrant lodge-pole pine br Beaten by hail that fell not five minutes before. br br The random snap of pine sap br Burning in the stone fireplace; br And outside the window br A wasp-trap, almost full. br br Black felt hat, leather vest, br Frayed red paper spewing br Loudly from a toy revolver. br Roy, Hoppy, Kimosabe, br The mailman hands down the box br Real slow, no tricks.