The Bronx in the rain: Slick city stones' Sovereign somber gloom Oh late afternoon! so overcast with the blues... Navy : leaves of tinsel sheen, Midnight : music and Sapphire Jazz /dancing shadows beneath light-post misty gold.
Outside, the bricks are just bricks but down there, mon frere, lo the lovers' tight embrace in the fallow light showers catching all eyes keen to their PDA as well as mine wide Flatscreen Attention... Peliculas and tall stories From a brown stone perch, traffic whirls sleep now hurries the city slow as thunder rolls loud On blacktop oil slick roads, heavy as the gutter water on asphalt / streets’ cold bones Like this town’s prehistorics; When Time stands still In lovers hallmark corners, there In **** shacks All wet in the gills, fish kisses taught kids how honey smacks now that the audience is frozen With anticipation, Wide binocular eyes View snapshots with captions Options It’s a real Banksy / real lives...
Monet meadows of skies raindrop brush strokes chaos maelstrom Wet dreams rivulet
All the while I am Dry inside With humid anticipations, At a pause / intently / intensely watching neighbors in hooded moods. This reminds me how it must of felt / now in this commotion by mere emotions so reminiscent of the artists’ weeping dreams wordless scripts scenes not unheard While inside I'm still dry and dwelling... In need is it Wish that spurns? Still, in this stone dwelling I am dry inside Trying to hide not Not looking down Aye dios mio, oh those two love birds In their gossamer glow
Oh how I drown when they finally kiss…
It’s not envy But a sort of empty drowning Myself without, Yet feeling Their kiss so loud. Such is empathy, Drowning without...