Leaning out his window,

 

He trebled to the canine streets

Then wandered to the courtyard,

His flute roaring:

 

Shirt off,

Flint flakes of moonlight

Glimmering on his bald head,

 

His bare back,

Dark and bristly,

Like his barrel chest.

 

The neighbor to my right declared

That two horns

Rose from the musician’s forehead—

 

Two horns,

Curved and graceful

Like his dancing thumbs.

 

All night his melodies soared

Above the salt tide of the city

Until the street lamps flickered off—

 

One man and his stopless flute.

And the neighbor across the pool

Swears by his mother that he saw

 

Two goat feet

Traipsing in the neon light,

But we know who was drunk

 

And who was dreaming.

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