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
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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...
Revised.
