GRANNY SMITH OR RED DELICIOUS
Clearly New York (ain’t got) nothing on us Their “quaint” street corners, and grime riddled stiff cuffs Punctured pig roasted porcupine hipped nicotine puffs its cloud dissolving to cobblestone paved side streets erupts Like bubble forming elitists, tipped to the top, eye-focus adjust With an air of overcast soaring on their wide-framed bust From where they walked the Bowery, handled side street short cuts disemboweled St Marks Sushi like a pro; Fondled toy poodles, opened them up, spread their guts In front of PETA and they only scoffed blemish on a boot toe, dropped a Blackberry in a street crevice puddle, Ass-smelling like must deep as their Crevice hanging from tramps stamped in disgust Vamp waist lines, held with thongs like narrowly hanging Vines, must too devine, longing to die on the line rather than become A vintners best press as I might, but that is why we are not thus! Honestly, New York is minced meat in our presence, Meatpacking district, “fag” fo...