Was the time you built
A tower from sticks
You found on the beach
Eight years old
A tyke in the sun
The indestructible things
Of the earth-mind
Found there
A successful art career
Is you wrote a song
In your bedroom
That nobody heard
Except the mice in the walls
Or that you wrote
Walking down the street
And later forgot
And later remembered
When you heard that
Pause and tone interval
Rise out of Monk’s piano
Like a magician’s white dove
A successful art career
Is being unable to focus
On your dumb money job
Because something about
That late Beethoven string quartet
From the old vinyl box set
With the blue cover
Grabbed you and did not
Release you
A successful art career
Was three sugar packets
Dumped into coffee
Some of it scattered
Across the formica table top
Between you at
Brady Street Pharmacy
Where it was always the 1970s
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