Metropolis is dust,
the smoke of unfaded coffin nails,
she's a sensual bonfire
littered landscape,
the burning lust running in my veins
between safety and risk,
circumcising the stage
where Dylan went electric.
~
"I didn’t belong to anybody then or now.”

Swing-shifting to mercenary mode,
but sinking my face value
by ordering takeout religion,
sharing a cab with Hepatitis C,
and all those sky-high boxes
and rectangles
—existing in one, spending nights
with her in another.
~
"Oh, lay me down to sleep
upon the trickery of time."
~

the clock read 4 am
in new york city,

one hell of a city

i was at a little coffee place, still open
it was one i frequented often, when in the sin
a place of pity
when you look closely at the people or inspect the buildings a bit nearer
some street blocks you need just look down
but i'd bought a cup for a nice young fella out on his luck
he'd made the pavement his pillow
and as he talked my ear off
on physics, domestic politics, and stocks
i thought of what little difference
it made to so many
whether it was him or i
calling my stay on the straightaways
and the little that made us separate