Thinking about those late nights
of jazz and smoke and booze

thinking about those hungry thoughts
empty cupboards and coffee pots

thinking about how to avoid the trap
that nostalgic trap of that melancholy feeling
that feels good and sad
and somehow comforting

thinking about lost loves
lost lives
lost time

thinking about how the jazz takes me back
to my old blue room
thirty years in the past

thinking about how my struggles today are different
from my struggles of yesterday
and how impermanent everything is

thinking about those rough new prizes
that Walt offered us
and what he would think of today

thinking about all these things
and of what I’ll fill my belly with for lunch
after my walk home