Ode to the urban wind

Free-form jazz floating around my head
ships in their harbors, sailless
the wind returns my favors
masts burning mad
I'm one of those crawling fools
living against my senses
staggering down same drunken streets
wishing someone could see
wishing there could be an ear
the wind returns my glances
some distant drum
some faraway talk
some cardboard prophet
reads from his bible
my ears deceived all the time
my eyes ripped off of their gift
sailless ships come dancing
on thin corridors of air
the streets move back in time
to 1971
walking with sun in my shoes
stars in my pockets
angel dust in my hair
putting some found art, for later,
in my red straw hat
putting the hat away
having a slow midday beer
nameless inviting cafes
free-form jazz still floating
now taking some shape:
glowing
ancient
ridiculous...
I've heard it all before
I've seen it all before
former flow of events
former flow of words
a tattooed woman comes closer
taking my red hat away
putting on my blue glasses
searching the suit
she finds
"Sailless ships, part one"
guess she's the angel
guess that's the ode
ode to the urban wind