sally along Broadway near Astor House,
his birthplace. He suddenly starts to whirl—
pirouette flows to soft-shoe. He’s aroused
my prying: “Does this unexpected twirl
arise from some concrete spiritual
experience?” He smiles as he spins past
me, singing, “All five categories, pal.
I find them like bright, flowing gardens, vast
as oceans, deep in each creative feat.”
His feet pause. He’s listening to something.
I hear it. “Lives progress, become complete
through faith and actions we repeat,” I sing
out of the blue. He shoots a laughing glance.
Like O’Connor and Kelly, off we dance.
Roger Armbrust
June 28, 2007
