Steve Klepetar


A man plays trumpet
on the Third Avenue
platform, while the crowd

swirls around him
and my mother growls
ā€œIā€™d pay him not to play,ā€

his notes glowing
in the black tunnel
like glowworms on a summer night.

Steve Klepetarā€™s sons have forgiven him for chasing them around the house reciting the opening lines of the prologue to The Canterbury Tales.