I drove your Datsun,
my couch an ell, subterranean
blue eyed Stockbridge-Munsee
tribe in Converse and balding socks
you lived upstairs
from China Palace
your waterbed
sucked me in
at Quarters you played good flute
while rain poured in on drumsets
and I clapped so hard
I yelled your name
I said I love
your songs
your hat and shoes