from the bar stool
of imagination
two young men
in a black and white
photograph
straight from the fifties
a cigarette dangles
from the mouth
of the skinny one
with a duck tail hairstyle
his friend holding a drink
both wearing too-tight jeans
wanting to be seen
in all their glory
inside the neighborhood
pool hall
chalking the stick
putting a little English
on the ball
trying to look cool and slick
like Jimmy dean and Fabian
in another neighborhood
coffee houses
on every street
playing jazz
and Jack Kerouac reading
on the road
breaking the sound barrier
that was the beginning
of the end
a new kind of free
inside the black and white
photograph
I sat waiting
