Chet Baker finds me
though I hid behind warmth
and am caressed by hands
in a room where
curtains stand guard
still
Chat Baker finds me easily
his trumpet celebrates sleepy nights
broad avenue walks
cramped hotels
and their balconies
it asks of me to remember
all that goes on tonight
to recall
the palm trees lining the ocean of her scent
every time
when I think that fall back has been ordered