MY FRIEND JACK, FOLLOWS A BUTTERFLY AND ALMOST BECOMES ENLIGHTENED

Startled out of a reverie
by a garden of gardenias
painted on Bronx windows

he escapes from a sweltering tenement
and follows a butterfly
to a land of flowers, trees,
birds and bees.

He kisses the tendrils,
sips from a sapling,
dances with rose petals,
hummingbird feathers and butterfly-wings.

The contours of stamens
Stimulates a scent between his toes.
Kundalini chakras open
at the scent of a jacaranda rose.

A horny old goat,
ogling massive hydrangeas,
and chasing flowering rhododendrons,
as he proclaims like Gaugain:
I must have flowers, always and always.

Breathing in the moment,
smiling like a Bhudda,
He plans a ménage-a trios,
Champagne, a budding flower and caviar
before leaving for the day after tomorrow.

His sizzling brain
is now stilled.
Never good at metamorphosis,
he proved to be better at dying.