A Sad Play―
Thousands of Cauldron Tainted Roses,
Cries of The Bitter Symphonies,

The Longing Saphire Sky;
Watching You & I.

Hundreds of tiny people sit behind their perfect shutter speeds trying to capture love
I guess it could be easy.
A held hand here. A forehead kiss there. Maybe an engagement band or two.
Maybe if you captured a swoony eyed gaze.
That's love, right?
That's love?
That's what a 14 yearold girl makes the wallpaper on her disposable cell phone.
The same one she uses to plan her disposable relationships.
Anyone can capture that.
What about like?
Have you ever seen a photo of the nervous silent smiles, after a simple conversation?
Where's the picture of movie theather wishful yet sweaty unheld hands?
What exposure would be best for the simpleness of sharing a soda?
I dont know, but I'd sure like to see.

Red ribbons  around the streetlights.
  The lights from the commadore theather
are a reflection of the past.
Coblestone streets the historic district across the water
buildings are lit  haunting  shadows over the water.

Once  a year closed streets seem to travle back in time.
Roasted penuts  street corner preformers.
Familys togather homeless on benches not all is beautiful and bright.

Sweet city so cold and gritty.
Christmas lights like neon signs call to my jaded soul.
Horse and carrige ride down by the water.
New lovers getting lost in the moment an season.

I sit apon the steps of the old church share a bottle with
My new best friend  smells of the city echo back to another time.
Lights and sounds reflect a holiday on highstreet.
Hands held  togther  when  in another  life it seems you
were mine.

Cold are the streets  carols fill this night.
If only more than once a year.
We could embrase this spirt.
Then trap it for one peaceful day.

The traffic apon  Highstreet  is  is slowing
The festival crowd is fading.
The bottle of christmas cheer is almost gone
so along with the I must  be going.

I remember the air
shimmering above hot roads
and sidewalks.
It rippled like water
and invited mirage.
We'd meet up in the
alleyway under my
fire escape and set off,
on bikes and skates and boards
and even on foot.
We'd be gone from the block
but usually still in the neighborhood.
Sometimes at lunch,
when everyone came back
to eat, I'd go up to the
corner store and one of
the uncles would buy me
a coke if I swept up or
moved some boxes.
I'd roll up comic books and
stuff them in my back pockets
because I had seen
Ric's older cousin do it
and I thought it was
the coolest thing.
At night we'd sneak into
the public pool to go for swims.
Some of the us would smoke
and talk about gossipy nothing
and some of us would try
to convince the girls to
give us secret kisses under
the water.
We were happy to be out
of the heat.
One weekend we biked,
my brother and I,
onto the island so we
could go to the good
theather, the air conditioner
worked and the movies
were played as double features.
We killed an entire
afternoon watching films
from the 80s play
back to back.
I sat, one evening, on the
lip of the roof of Ami's building.
She was staring at me
from across the roof
daring me to call her attention.
"Whatchu got, big guy?"
I leaned back and threw
out my arms, making slow
lazy circles and smiling
broadly at her and at everyone.
For a second, though it was
brief, the smile vanished.
I could feel the pull of
gravity in my belly and groin.
I felt suddenly weightless.
I was so sure...
but my feet kicked out and
the weight shifted
and I was fine.
She was making her way
over to me and I don't
remember what happened
next or what we said.
I remember the feeling.
I remember the fear.
I had nothing to compare
it to. It was huge and
intense and profound.
It was like...
It was like falling in love.
When it rained,
like sheets with wind whipping
between the buildings
as though through canyon walls,
we'd stay in and futz
with Great Grandma's
old black and white set.
One of us would hold the antenna,
the rest indicating how high
or far away.
We'd take turns,
switching out during commercials.
Waiting out the rain.
It's gone now, of course.
The city has a gestational period
like cicadas.
The city I know,
the city I moved away from
is gone.
Yesterday's New York.
I've learned since
to fall in love, elsewhere.