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$15,000 in debt
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city at night

January 30th, 2015 § 0 comments

Poem #444 for Alex Panzetta

 

It’s the old romance I miss.
Jazz within four walls on a cold autumn evening.
People drinking to remember the good ol’ days,
wondering how real our urban sunset memories are;
the city that will never exist anymore
with those who built it now wandering through
this suited playground, unrecognizable;
the pain of being forgotten now having replaced
the struggle that breastfed creation.

When the sun set,
our dreams over the rainbow
illuminated side streets the tourists and that sun forgot;
the cold allowed us to warm together
over whiskey and ballads;
in reckless illogical yearning
this cemented seduction glorified the passionate lust
of anyone who dared to love and suffer for it.

This city at night
the dichotic landscape of nature slowdancing with skyscrapers
at the north end of Sheep’s Meadow;
the luminous hope of the Lady as the boat
switchbacks around the island’s southern tip;
the windy waters under the gateway of the Queens bridge,
the soundtrack of passion, loneliness, possibilities and
the misdirected purpose of a 3am stroll;
the sunrise nostalgia as one day blends into
another, oblivious to the house rules of Father Time

Jazz within four walls on a cold night,
condensation on the glass
blocking out the real town,
allowing us to play in the city of our dreams.

That is the old romance I miss the most

 

af

 

(written with pen on paper at Cleopatra’s)

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