December 20, 2010
Quiet dusk on bustling city

never sleeps
plastic bag spreads its wings
flying past skyscrapers
and over auto graveyards
Audrey Flack painted skyline rivals the billboard fantasy
our perception of dream and reality is really quite distorted
Years ago they marched these streets
fought with daisies
and words
the LSD cube taught them how to


how to

the many colored disarray told them to bed in for peace

and they did
but one day they woke up in Vietnam

and the napalm killed them

war isn’t over

and we don’t want it
i would hate to have a soldier’s funeral
Sun goes down
on the moon, don’t tell
or we’ll never see a sunset again
neon playground wakes up
beckons us to improvise
Coney Island fantasia houses the misfit toys
A royal flush of
sweetly stale cigarettes
mixed with cheap whiskey
and gasoline
gets you new york
The kittens live in glass gingerbread houses

heavily lined eyes seek customers
man or woman?
the long red painted fingernails

and knife sharp stilettos
scare away the children
East village bohemians
sending love letters to the Haight-Ashbury
the money in the guitar case doesn’t do much
so they live on marijuana
and leftovers from last thanksgiving
somehow finding Humboldt twenties
for their lines of angel dust
Throbbing, pulsing beat
in the club
down the street
Harlem renaissance gives us leeway

so we can make love with the underground soul
alcohol is a grain


so its part of the main food group

drink all you want
Sometimes when we all get high
we rape the roofs of the apartments

dancing on the silhouette
look how the orange glazed stratosphere
blocks the wishing stars
it’s why we cry ourselves to sleep
Morning greets our balmy bodies
the aspirin you bought with an eleven dollar bill does nothing to ease the pain
the sun is still hungover
population over 8 million

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