A Boston Beat

A Boston Beat poet
cooped up all winter
like a canary
from a runaway cage
tired of TV screens
and faded old films
clouded over
his bloodshot eyes
wanting a red French wine
takes out his sax
to play riffs along waterfront
as a former student eyes me
with his telescope
tells me he has discovered
a comet tonight
near the rocky shore
mentions his weekend trip
terrorized from a water bed
abandoned from home
and his mind is made up
shows me his balancing act
in his disturbed universe
by throwing a football
from the Patriots
telling him a Chinese proverb,
“Tension is who you think
you should be, relaxation
is who you are.”