Chimneys in Winter

Chimneys in Winter

Thought of you last night, Bashõ.
Outside the Hungry Brain,
we puffed. Puffed. Passed.
                     The jazz from inside
flowed light as a stream rolling over
a curvy sandy bed.
              We puffed. Puffed. Passed.
Like smoking rooftops. A kiss of bliss.
Exhaling the burden of being ourselves.
Calming as violets on a mountain path.
                  This was before
we got drinks at the Logan Arcade,
played four-way Pac Man,       grabbed Lazo's
ground beef tacos with shit-tons of salsa verde.
             This was just us
outside the Hungry Brain, Bashõ.
We puffed. Puffed. Passed.       Exhaling
the burden of being ourselves.
The buildup to our releases
            a Chicago Windsong.
                   Sung slowly.
Precisely. Purposefully.       Only once.
Heads lifted to the moon like wolves.
A breather       from incompleteness.