I thought I’d take a slow stroll down Madison and Main,

Stop by the coffeeshop where they know me by name,

slide by the diners, and grab a bite or two,

Step to the blookstore and listen to canned blues.

I call it what it is, a simple hop and stop

to places where I’m known, where it’s home to shop.

To those that know me, it’s plain, easy to see.

A simple wandering ramble to places I’d like to be.

You see, a poem’s got to have rhythm, a certain kind of step,

A shuffle and a slow note and a certain feel for rep-

-etition, word division, a stringing of reason and rhyme.

A poet in search of words that mean a certain bounce in time,

a step, a stride, a slouch-along word for talkin’.

A simple, slow, jazz-boogey slam-slugging other word for [walkin’].