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’].