Freedom

The sun again over the harbor
Changes the windows
Like old yellowed mirrors
On Rembrandtsplein
The pipes in their places
Beside floral couches
Where you lie
Evening encounters
At Paradiso with him
The gentle poetry
Of fingertips
The verses drifted
Apart in the Spring
Lingering verses
Remaining within
Haiku are words to be counted now
Five seven five
Friends is a word to be wanted now
Searching through colored beads
Velveteen curtains
And doctors' names
The winter finds you alone
With yellowed back issues
Of Rolling Stone
And old Alohas
Worn Chinese carpet upon the floor
Half the White Album
All of the Basement Tapes
And bootleg Stones
And new life styles
Have found old death styles
All their own