Friday Night at Mr. Toots
Upon the first anniversary of David Crosby's death.
He paused at the top of the stairs
Searching the faces in the room.
Where to sit this crowded night
Just to be and drink fresh coffee.
My god, I thought, it's Jim West
What's he doing here … here … where I am
Just a couple of weeks in California
Far away from the high school
Where he wandered through his youth
Before he was sucked into Nam.
Jim lost a leg there and the candor
That lit his pathway to my heart.
This man at the top of the stairs
Chose a table in the far corner
Both legs carried him with grace
Passed patrons who gasped.
David Crosby sipped his coffee,
Scowled at the intruder shoving paper
Into his face. I popped through a fog
And remembered where I was.
I have read this lovely piece several times, and I understand it up to "Both legs carried him with grace." I am confused by what follows. Please help me out here, Sue, if you will.