Our house in Brooklyn
Groaning with the heavy sheeted winds
Car doors and answering machines
A windy, winding tunnel of deep seated hatred
Vaulting towards you and me
Deep down in our tunnel of love
The black ice is slippery
Several more years til this kills me

Sipping cherry coke and *****
Sitting playfully on the carpeted floor
Playing with your fingers while Maury screams on TV
Screaming with some unknown rage in his eyes
A rage that has come from deep psychological problems
The rats in our walls stir again

Dark clouds form overhead
Making shadow puppets in the dark Brooklyn streets
And they boxed in the Avenues of the Brooklyn rain
Triumphant in their arrival
Several more years now
Several more years.

The rain streaks the windows
Water drops form vertical lines
They race.
The dogs barking again and I can’t control this situation
The sirens are singing again and they won’t quit
Every year this house stays up
We waste it on gin and cheap TV
Watching the cable from the house two blocks down
They watch the ******* stuff.

The Brooklyn smog hangs in the air
Dismal and clear.
The sirens won’t quit
But the dogs have given up
Their sheltered under the porch
Whining, whining.

The cable cuts out
The static on the radio is clear
And then the dogs howl.