in a city of drumbeats 

the drum dream young lady 

imagined of beating tall conga drums 

tapping little bongó drums 

also, blast blasting with long, noisy sticks 

on bit, round, gleaming moon-splendid timbales. 

 

In any case, everybody 

on the island of music 

in the city of drumbeats 

trusted that lone young men 

should play drums 

 

So, the drum dream young lady 

needed to continue imagining 

calm mystery 

drumbeat dreams. 

 

*At open air bistros that resembled gardens 

she heard drums played by men 

yet, when she shut her eyes 

she could likewise hear her own fanciful music. 

 

When she strolled under 

wind-wavy palm trees 

in a blossom brilliant stop 

she heard the hum of parrot wings 

the clatter of woodpecker bills 

the moving tap of her own strides 

also, the ameliorating pat 

of her own pulse. 

 

At festivals, she tuned in to the rattling beat 

of transcending artists on stilts 

also, the mythical serpent clank of costumed drummers 

wearing gigantic covers.