Tuesday, April 20, 2010

NYC

I enlisted the forces within to conquer the Whitestone Proper
quelled to imagine the musings of such Sea Birds, rolling
their plastic eyes at the pigeons of Washington Square.
Where are the leaves, the squirrels raged, tender tips
of fondling fingers folding and rolling their acorn nuts. I
might just squeeze his little cheeks at the sight his nose,
so squeeky and rabid. I scurried for the ground, found
yellow drips of picasso's blood boiling over the brim
of the Hudson River Bandit, steaming down shore
towards cities edge. If I looked twice and slowly,
the world might just edge to the end near battery park,
might just turn down 90 degrees and allow us to slid down
to China. The sea birds down here don't have patience
for me, and the pigeons have stolen one of their glass eyes,
so I am sure my stay is overwelcome and my welcome
over easy like the eggs scrambled in the Diner on 43rd.

I searched for Pizza, 33rd, 32nd, 31st, like the clock
ticking forward, the clock ticking forward, the clock
clickety clank of the widgets and wheels, of the cogs
and that steel, the springs and the wings, and the
white flying things, with glass eyes. I mentioned my
breath and covering my mouth, breathed, to be
certain, it was that shit smell of steam and not me.

I don't like you, and that's an abstract! But I am sure
if you looked in side, took time to cock back my head
you'd be certain there's something to like. I'm no city,
but you're no island, so let's not pretend who were not
supposed to be. You're linked by bridges, and I only visit
but your food's pretty good, and my singings quite bad
but we've something for each other, for each other.

Mama

I turned and left, rose pedals falling, charging the ground
like rain water being pricked by each falling drop; now puddled
and pregnant, the moment collapsed and I was gone.
If it was Tuesday, the skyline ignored it, as wind sheeted by
like worn linen over a freshly made bed. I thought it might
be her bed, clouded and wet, electricity scuttling, lights
flickering in a mimic of bright eyed filament mistaking
Morse code; that I could watch the bulb fire on and slowly
fade back to black. I remember now, how much darker
it seemed, after starring intently into the dying glow,
my eyes blinded for moments.

In a later moment, I saw the clouds tear apart, light
shone, but still grayed, and lit to a blueish hue. I felt my lips,
chapped, and heard under the rolling tires, the crumble
of some loose gravel. I parted my thoughts like the sky,
let the road veer the car, and loosened to the night. Somewhere
detached, between nervous and cold, my toes met wet sock
and I knew you knew I should have brought a change,
a fresh set! That's all I could see, the window fogging, those
fresh steps of damp traipsing across the windshield for me!