It wasn't Bogart
slick and sexy as he seemed
and not Sinatra though his voice
was gold
mine was a different music
not the blues
however much I grooved
on Lighting Hopkins
and not Bob Dylan
for all his lyrics touched me
who was it I was trying to become?
the university professors who had kindly
taken me under their wing?
the meditation masters whose smiles
and gestures changed the world?
my parents had had their chance with me
but I could quite manage to be
my father's son
in retrospect it was my wives
lovers and friends
whose kindnesses
helped me start to imagine
the person I'm still reaching for
the feast that I'm still working to prepare