There's something to be said for having one plate, one spoon,
a fork, a dull knife, living out of a red suitcase, eating when
hungry, grabbing shut-eye when tired, you're high-natured,
Joyce James said to me when I lived in NYC, we were in a cab
on our Friday lunch break going to a record store, decades later
I see I was not high-natured, only wanted love, though what that
means I don't know, something about mystery, standing humbly
at the gate of someone else's mystery and hoping for the sound,
at least now and then, of the hinges turning, mystery now,
mystery then, as when I went up to a guy at the record store
to ask him who did the song "Refugee" and he said, "Me,"
and I realized after I found the album and looked at the photo
on the cover I'd asked Tom Petty who did a Tom Petty tune
I'd heard on the radio when I was hungry and tired and alone.
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