a time in new york city

newyorkpoem.png

Spent a time in New York City

Five thousand miles from home

There was a man,

Withering,

With some card that read

Nowhere to sleep

Who slept,

He slept so deep, his mouth

Dry, his skin

Wan

His gaping pie-hole

So wide it could

Swallow New York

Whole.

Under slant-wise shadows

Of the formidable

Skyline,

His cup tilted, he lost

Reality

Dreaming of God

Knows what

Riches.

Coins and cash

Spill to the

Sidewalk, bounce

And roll in

And off commuter’s

Shoes.

One coin, or two, reaches

A drain

And,

Having woken at

Pavlov’s

Ring of clattering coins,

The man jumped at the

Drain

To catch his life

But he missed it by a finger

Nail’s length and

The money fell into dark

And the man wailed, cried louder,

Harder

Sadder

Than the day his mother

                                                        Died.

On the dirty, dusty streets

I pass distantly by, observing,

Aloof.

We all do.

What filthy habits fuel this fire? And

The retribution of diseases

That feed on

The weakness.

Feeble mind, pathetic

Supplication.

High and low

Up here down

There

Who is sprawled across

The Tarmac after

All?

~

Later on that day, my friend reminds me

That smoke                                                                        rises

~

New York City is,

Perhaps,

More alive than any

Other city I know. More collectively

Contiguously

Alive

~

Nigger, you want to listen to

My mixtape?

Firm hand clubs

Shoulder No No

No I sign it for

You

I sign it!

Moving Living

Organisms

Here I signed it

Take it

You gotta

Donation? Donation?

Donate

I got change for a twenty

That twenty there, gimme gimme me

                                               me

Give me that

Give it

Hey man, don’t

Make me

Fuck

With you

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