Robert Maplethorpe's holding a dark beige stick,
waving out the piss-iron subway windows...
In the tunnel, a skull-capped man,
Sprays from a can "Not Intended for Graffitti."
run over dense ghost feet,
breathing urine and exhaust fumes.
We pound up to the ground level.
on the infamous Orange line.
Someone's cooking fish heads loudly,
On all 4 corners of the block....
A tan guy with a weathered brass saxophone
blows deep azure for Miles.
We see a headline blowing down the street,
from a black and white issue of the Boston Globe,
splintered by some homeless men's fire:
JOHN LENNON MURDERED
And we burned a Buddhist candle in grief,
That was a virgin candle,
never before encountering fire.