Oh my sloppy joe, forlorn,
rippling with mirth, 
down my chin you ran, 
like a plantain.

Once upon a hot summer ragu
In the blue bayou.
Of mint and thyme
And bristly porcupine

speak, if you must
smile, only just…

Your skin – soft and golden
In the august sun – slow and swollen
Sesame and quints
Saucy vitamins.

But my memory 
fades as the twilight 
till just the secret melody lingers 
in the bare boughs –

and whispers to me, 
whispers of charles mingus

Rains will surely come
and wash you away
or on a ship you’ll depart 
to return never
into the haven of my heart.

But perhaps on a rainy day –
Dark and gaunt –
I may forget

To remember never that day
in september.