IMPROMPTU

When he ambles

ahead then looks

sideways to scan

the street as if

sight-reading sheet

music, I see

him several years

from now, awkward,

twelve inches taller,

stooping to clear

an overhang

of gangly branches,

and try to fix

this moment’s pitch

as if fine-tuning

chords on the keys

of a piano,

how he ad-libs

his gait across

a sidewalk slab,

scattering grace notes

behind each step.