All is not given-up…there is jazz….the beats…..Baldwin….and a cat named Carroll……

Books are gathered like groceries….plenty of proteins…vegetables….an ocassional sweet or two….Ginsberg for desert; he’d have liked that..

And…the Book of Blues lay on a table….a reach away…San Francisco Blues….MacDougal Street Blues….Kerouac sings and I listen….who could not…..

It’s a Saturday…..it’s a Saturday….maybe calm will prevail…over loud car stereos….mufflers ajar….motherfucker this and fuck you that on my street corner….a stained shirt…..

Bronx Blues….Bronx Blues….no need for rhyming schemes….the colors apply themselves….all you gotta do….is look….