Poem 2
Wynton Marsalis
A man forgets what the boy knew,
remembers what he's used to 'til you
crashed a cacophonous procession of cruel, hard fun,
shook my remembering with a blinding glance
(What songs do mystic bluesmen sing
'bout memory being more powerful than
the real, real thing)
Here - There the sun
O! the moon
the sun the moon and you, only you