My take on york

Broadway Bound and Gagged

Times square, sparkling electric orgasm
For hustlers and crazies and
A junkie seeks salvation in a urinal
In the Port Authority bus terminal
The needle finds the vein
And he’s lost on 42nd St.

7th Avenue and I barter for a Dahler Mehndi CD
With an Amritdhari in a leisure suit.
I’m in step to his boom box
Counting in avenues
Parting the tourists in a skyline trance
Armed with their double-decker bus day passes.
Soup nazi, souvenir shops, billboards….

8th Avenue smoke rises
Like the whole city is about to burn.
Open all night– every bar, every grease joint
The scent of carnival fries and pachouli.
Yellow taxis bounce over steam grates
To make their way to lost souls.

9th Avenue and and an old friend’s got herself
A new stockbroker:
Alpha male and Armani.
She’s a vision in pale,
The finest girl he’ll never love.

It’s a nice night for an umbrella and I
Duck into a diner chased by rain.
There’s no better excuse for an exit than an entrance
Order a veggie burger and a beer.
The drunk at the counter is contemplating today’s lottery number,
“Triple twos, canyoubelieveit?”.
“Al, maybe yi’d better get home,” says the waitress, “It’s late.”
She’s a faded southern rose displaced
If she were twenty years older, she’d be out of his league.

When your evenings are numbered
It’s all beautiful when in shines.
Give my regards to….
Eight stations south– or is it nine?
A drifter shadow boxes his reflection.
And the second shift nods off.
And a hooker swaps her suicide boots for sensible shoes.
And the Brooklyn boys call it a night.
And every stop admits another story.
As the nine train speeds me back to go.

                                        -Andyman

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