there hasn't been a poet on the scene
since Tommy left the stoop; he had
charm & sense w/in his singing mind -
I wanted to be a poet like Tommy;
he just said words but thinking is like
words heard through the window;
teenage desi's screaming ******* in
livid fear of her parent's arraigned
marriage for her to the ****** kid
that never left the *****, smelly ****-
filled old rundown village; she's a
model & fashion VP for a publicity
firm in midtown & wears designer
lingerie every night, or a simple
satin slip like Liz Taylor in Butter-
field 8 - but the first poets were the
last since no once since the last poets
have said anything that makes sense
since they spoke the words heard on
the stoop w/ a 40 oz. St. Ides chanting
to the cops, Hasidim & hookers;
***** yuppies & drunken Mexicans
****** on **** & fentanyl & K2;
the first poets were the last to get in
on the ******* after the gang has
gone & she's a smiling dazed mess;
she's my gf going on years now; hell,
I married her, she's a grandmother
ten times over & still smiles at her
hubby who knows what a **** she is;
that was long ago when the last poets
were the first & the first were the last