He came to the city as a child,
breastfed on the traffic lights.
Bawled endlessly, while his mother
worked nights.

Went to school every other day
Lessons like so many bad dreams
Then youth passed away, and a father came
in the shape of a small-time Manhattan ****,
and blossom fell streaming from every tree.
In that great city - by January,
the  boy was newly teasing death.
In one way or other, walking the streets,
asking after ****.