Jafar came to the west end
of Rottenhouse Pork
for the sun he says
found me with it
says
the universe is mental
and with it
what do we know is real
I reply
the I
yes he sits up
excitedly
brings out a shiny red pocket trumpet
not the cornet
waiting to be repaired
see this woman
woman and man
sitting with their newborn
across from us
how do you refer to yourself?
I'm sitting on this park bench
right -- I
he tests the pocket trumpet's range
plays a couple old songs
some of which I recognize
yet the names aren't there
as my name isn't there
escaped him again
that's fine
knowing the name of something
doesn't mean you know anything anyway
that's Feynman
I sketch him as he plays
until the sun disappears
behind the apartments
now it's cold
he stops
says I have a good hand
I say we both do
different ways
he says
alright brother
we bump
shake each other by the forearms
remind him of my name
we part once again
I consider going home
but instead went to Barnes & Noble
across the street to piss
read a tiny Ginsberg book
and wrote
