For More Than Forty Years

Drowned by music/a lyric of line thrown to the man
reaching for the reef/rhythm in each heartbeat
idling on King Street/sun stretching across the kitchen
as a feline form/supine verbs scratching at
each attacking memory/you emaciated and walking
to a point which will exist/and we all saying/saying
the situation which exists is/memory, memory, memory
and I print the past/we can view it in amber
for a while/although footsteps on a beach with waves
playing the drums as so transient/a man stepping
off a slow night freight train/staring around before
embarking again/sunlight on a forgotten pen.